The Curious Existence of Kurt Hummel
by Elle Iver
Summary: Steampunk AU. Kurt, the kitten-cum-human lab accident of Master Chemist Will Schuester, finds himself falling for Blaine, the mysterious new owner of Dalton Manor, despite his current romantic entanglements with Will's apprentice Sam. Also, werewolves.
1. Chapter 1

**The Curious Existence of Kurt Hummel, and the Werewolf who Loved Him**

An adventurous and sometimes angst-ridden dramedy set in an alternate history, wherein magic and science try to find a balance in a changing society. Also there are werewolves, fantasy steam technology, a circus, and sex. Lots of filthy sex.

This began as a fill for the kink meme on LiveJournal, but then it grew a plot and became this monster of a story. It's still being written, but as I'm 25,000 words in with no end in sight, I really need to start posting it before I go insane. Massive THANK YOU to my beta betteroffapart (LJ username) for helping me solidify the story and just generally being awesome. I now know what authors mean when they refer to a beta as being a cheerleader \o/

**Pairings**: Kurt/Blaine with Kurt/Sam; ensemble cast with current canon pairings and a few surprises  
><strong>Warnings<strong>: attempted sexual assault, unwanted sexual advances, brief violence, infidelity, allusions to bestiality  
><strong>Other possibly squicky kinks<strong>: mpreg & lactation (WAIT! Don't run! I promise it makes sense in this 'verse, as it is of a magical nature and not assbabies), rimming, felching, come play, marking, nipple play, biting, jealousy/possessive, toys/object insertion, desperation, that ridiculous cat-in-heat!Kurt trope

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><p>"What's that one for?" Kurt asks, slinking up behind Sam and resting his chin on his shoulder to get a better look at the shelf. The shop hasn't opened for the day, the sun not yet all the way risen, and Kurt finds the shelves of elixirs and oddities lining the walls to be rather creepy in the dim grey light. Sam pauses his stocking and holds one of the glass bottles up, tilting it so Kurt can see the handwritten label. Kurt's tail swishes back and forth, his curiosity piqued. "Werewolf Repellent?"<p>

"Yep." Sam resumes his job, lining the bottles up carefully. "It took Schue almost two weeks, but he's the first chemist in the region to get a working formula. People are getting paranoid, it's going to be great for business."

"I thought werewolves never came into the city, or really even near the coasts."

"There's been a lot of sightings lately, haven't you heard about it?"

"Not really." Kurt and the werewolves have one thing in common- he doesn't socialize much. Well, that and the part about being an animal/human transmogrification.

Kurt presses a dry kiss to Sam's neck and pulls back, his nose and ears twitching. He licks the backs of his hands and fingers and sets about cleaning his cat ears, smoothing down the fur and washing away the small traces of dirt his hair and fur have picked up from the dusty streets. Licking the dirt from his hands is kind of gross, but Kurt has spent his whole life getting used to it, so he keeps grooming and softly purring. Sam goes back to reorganizing the shelves, having to consolidate things to make room for the new product.

"I wish you wouldn't do that in public," he says after a minute. Kurt pauses with his tongue halfway out and glares.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize a privately owned business was considered a public venue."

Sam shifts uncomfortably and points out the front windows. Kurt turns and sees a couple of kids blatantly staring at him and giggling, though when they see him looking they shriek and run off, hooting with laughter. Kurt stands straight and still, the only hint at his mood his rapidly twitching tail.

Sam sets some overstocked bottles of Hair-Be-There, Mr. Schuester's best-selling hair growth serum, into a wooden crate and dusts off his palms. He walks over to Kurt, scratching behind his ears in a move he's used countless times to soothe him. It takes a few minutes, but Kurt starts to relax and eventually leans into the touch, purring and butting his head against Sam's hand to encourage him.

"You know I care about you, right? I just... I don't like to see you get upset when people give you funny looks for doing stuff like that."

"Do you think I do?" At Sam's confused look, Kurt rolls his eyes and clarifies, "enjoy being ridiculed for things I can't control. Because I don't, Sam, and I'm not looking to show off." Kurt also doesn't enjoy how slow Sam can be, but he's been nothing but sweet and Kurt likes the security of having a boyfriend. Being taken doesn't dissuade the most persistent men from hitting on him, but it has diminished the numbers.

"Sorry," Sam says after a moment. "I know that. I just worry about you."

"Well, don't." Kurt ducks out from underneath Sam's hand, his reluctance to leave a good petting session overridden by his need for a dramatic exit.

"Wait," Sam calls after him, and Kurt pauses by the door but doesn't turn around. "Your coat's messed up."

Kurt reaches back and realizes his tail had pushed out to one side, instead of poking out of the split back of his tailcoat. Kurt lives in fear of his carefully created clothes slipping and exposing himself to anyone who looks. He feels for the ties that cinch shut the hole in his trousers and sighs when he feels the secure knots. A quick tug and the tails of his coat are back in place, his own tail hanging between them.

"Thanks." Kurt sweeps out, coat billowing around his legs as he stops short on the stoop. Will Schuester is at the bottom of the steps, blinking at him.

"Morning, Kurt," Mr. Schuester says once he gets over the surprise of nearly being run over. He smiles and pats his shoulder. "I was just talking to Miss Pillsbury."

"Oh?" Kurt arches an eyebrow and tries to fight back a smirk. Mr. Schuester is completely obvious about his crush on Kurt's employer, which would be more disturbing if Miss Pillsbury herself didn't blush and stammer every time the chemist's shop was mentioned. "Well, if she's already in the shop then I should head in." Kurt steps around Mr. Schuester and gracefully spins, walking backward as Mr. Schuester opens the door. "I like the new sign much better, by the way."

"Thank you, again, for the lettering design, Kurt. It looks much more scientific." He pauses to admire the letters stencilled on the window front of his shop, smiling to himself. "Have a good day, Kurt."

"You as well, William Schuester, Master of the Chemical Arts," Kurt teases, using the ostentatious title displayed on the window. Mr. Schuester waves and closes the door behind him. The full sign adds_ Proprietor, New Directions in Laboratory Science_, which is silly enough without the former sad crooked lettering that Kurt finally convinced him needed replacing.

Kurt turns around and whistles as he walks toward his own apprenticeship, already dreaming of the fabric he hopes to play with today.

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><p>Kurt finds it impossible to say no to his adoptive father, which is why he lets Burt talk him into joining the family at their favorite bar that evening. Sam's waiting for them outside the door, wearing the same clothes from that morning, though he's removed his goggles and the horrible stained leather apron he wears in the lab. Sam holds the door open for Kurt and the others- Burt, his wife Carole, and Carole's son Finn. Kurt hesitantly adjusts Sam's collar for him, his eyes fixed on his hands, and Sam presses his palm to the small of Kurt's back. Kurt glances up and Sam is smiling at him, apparently unconcerned with the vaguely uncomfortable end to their morning.<p>

"Hello." Kurt drops a kiss on Sam's cheek and passes through the doorway.

"Hello yourself," Sam replies, right on his heels, and Kurt knows he's watching the swing of his hips and tail as he follows the others to a small table. He saunters a bit more exaggeratedly and looks over his shoulder. Sam raises his eyes from his ass up to Kurt's face, smiling sheepishly, but Kurt just grins back at him.

After Burt grabs them all pints of beer, they start up a game of cards. Carole protests loudly when Kurt refuses to be dealt in, which Kurt loves her for, but they all know he'd rather be at home with a book. He perches on the edge of his chair and watches them, his extra set of ears helping him pick out the sounds of the piano in the back over the noise of the boisterous and mostly drunken crowd. It's not Kurt's scene, but nothing in this city truly is. He nuzzles at Sam's neck when Burt gets tipsy enough to not say anything and blushes when Carole winks at him across the table.

"Are you trying to cheat?" Finn asks, looking between Kurt and Carole. Carole laughs and hides her face behind her fan of cards.

Kurt rolls his eyes. "Yes, Finn, clearly Carole and I are in cahoots. Nothing pleases me more than cheating at games I'm not even playing."

Finn looks confused, which isn't all that unusual, but he's interrupted from saying anything else by Puck slamming a pint down in front of him. Kurt doesn't normally mind Puck, but he's coming on extra strong tonight, leering at him unashamedly as he roughly fondles Kurt's ears in greeting. Kurt swats the hand away and glares, but Puck just licks his lips and gives him a smoldering look.

"Man in the back sent that for you," Puck says, jerking his head toward the pint Finn is already sipping. "Figured you wouldn't drink it, but that Finn here knows how to appreciate it."

"Hey, thanks," Finn says, smiling. "I mean, I wish all these guys would stop buying Kurt drinks, because it's kinda creepy, but I really don't mind drinking them."

"Thanks, Finn," Kurt drawls sarcastically. "You sure are sweet, drinking to my discomfort." Finn gives him a stilted salute and takes a long sip. Kurt shakes his head and laughs, amusement lingering as he leans into Sam, butting his head against his boyfriend's temple.

Puck leaves with a strained smile and another man takes his place, trying to start up a conversation with Kurt about some news from another country. Kurt gives stilted answers and shifts his chair closer to Sam, trying to look interested in the card game.

The man leans in and cups Kurt's shoulder. "You don't look like the type to enjoy cards, gorgeous. Why don't you join me and my friends in the back?"

"No, thank you," Kurt says brightly. "Why don't you and your charming friends pay a visit to Goolsby? I think his boys are more your type."

"What did you say?" The man squeezes Kurt's shoulder hard and narrows his eyes. Before Kurt can think of something sufficiently scathing to say, Burt is already pulling the man off of him.

"The kid's with his boyfriend, asshole, and I'm sure he wouldn't give you the time of day if he was single. Beat it." The man slinks off without another word and Kurt sends Burt a small smile. There's no way the poor guy could have known what he was getting into when he adopted Kurt, but he's stepped up to the role of protective father figure quite admirably.

Sam resumes his card playing one-handed and pets at Kurt fondly, running a hand down his back and scratching hard at the spot right above Kurt's tail. Kurt mewls loudly. It's one of the most sensitive spots on his body and it always makes his back arch in pleasure, but this time the simple touch sends Kurt sprawling across the table as he thrusts his ass in Sam's face, tail twitching off to the side to expose himself. The crowd goes quiet around them and Sam snatches his hand back.

There are several moments of uncomfortable silence before Kurt gets control of himself, dropping to his feet with less grace than usual. His face burns in shame as he hurries out of the bar. He can't believe he just presented his ass to his boyfriend in front of a bunch of strangers- in front of Burt and Finn and _Carole_ too, god, like he's some desperate sex addict. He hadn't realized his heat was starting, though now as he leans against the brick of the building to catch his breath he can't fathom how he missed it. He's been irritable and moody the past few days, as well as increasingly... flirty. It's not like him to flaunt himself in front of Sam like he did tonight.

He'll go back to his tiny apartment and hide for a few days until his body is back under his control, just like he does every cycle during the mating season. He has a long walk back, since he won't be getting a ride from Burt's steamcar. They all know to give him space when he's going into heat, so he doubts any of them will follow him. He pushes away from the wall and heads down the side street.

"Here, kitty." Kurt freezes, ears flattening against his head and eyes narrowing to slits as he watches a man approaching him. He's walking at a quick and slightly wobbly pace, cornering Kurt between the wall and a large pile of empty crates.

"Stay the fuck away from me," Kurt says coldly, curling his upper lip as he hisses. The man laughs, and when Kurt moves to dart past him the man catches him and throws him to the ground. Kurt springs to his feet instantly but the man manages to back him against the wall before he can run.

"I saw you in the bar," the man says, pressing closer to pin Kurt fully. "You're in heat like a mindless animal, aren't you, little slut? Just like your sister."

"Get off me," Kurt spits out, trying to twist his way out of the hold. The man is bigger than him, though, and Kurt can smell the alcohol wafting off him. He's suddenly aware of how much danger he's in, what this asshole could do to him, so Kurt sucks in a deep breath and screams as loud as he can. It's cut short as the man slaps him hard and slams his head against the brick.

"C'mon, be a good kitty." The man keeps Kurt's hands pinned with one hand and moves the other lower, Kurt gasping and whimpering through the throbbing pain in his head and the knowledge of what is to come. Kurt bares his teeth and hisses. He's never been more angry in his life but there's nothing he can do; the man is pushed up against him so thoroughly Kurt can't get any leverage to move.

Just as his attacker starts struggling with opening Kurt's pants, Kurt hears the growling. A split second later the man is wrenched off of him, screaming, as the biggest wolf Kurt has ever seen pulls the man to the ground, cracking his head against the pavement. Kurt slides down the wall to sit, his legs shaky from terror and confusion, and sees the wolf glance at him, golden eyes glowing in the moonlight. His front legs are braced on the man's chest, pinning him with seemingly no effort. The wolf turns away and bites down hard on the man's neck, tearing out his throat with an efficient jerk. He kills him so quickly that Kurt doesn't have time to think about running away to save his own life; he can only stare as the wolf prances over to him, licking the blood off of his mouth.

"Please don't hurt me," Kurt whispers, because he knows without a doubt that this is a werewolf and not just a crazed wild animal. He can smell the human part of him, a faint musk underneath the outdoorsy scent that is infinitely more appealing than canines usually smell to him. The werewolf's eyes are more expressive, too, brows tilting in an earnest gaze as he gives a high-pitched whine and lowers his head. Kurt pets him instinctively. "Thank you for saving me?" Kurt says, unsure if the werewolf can understand him. The werewolf licks Kurt's wrist and whuffles, so Kurt takes that as a yes. He moves closer to Kurt, nuzzling in to sniff at his neck and lap at his face. The werewolf's tongue is wet and smooth but he doesn't slobber, just gently licks the tears from Kurt's cheeks before nosing at his jaw and licking once behind his ear. Kurt shudders and flushes in shame as he realizes he's getting aroused. The werewolf must notice, too, because he drops his head to sniff at Kurt's lap.

Kurt growls as he pushes the werewolf away and staggers to his feet, arms crossed protectively. He wants to defend himself, explain that he can't help it, but the way the werewolf is looking at him makes Kurt think he already understands. It's still embarrassing, though, and Kurt wants nothing more than to crawl into bed and forget this night even happened.

"I'm going to walk home now." The werewolf nuzzles Kurt's elbow and follows him as he starts to move, keeping pace with him right at his side. "Are you escorting me to safety?" Kurt asks incredulously, and the werewolf looks at him and very deliberately dips his head in a nod.

Kurt tries to ignore the body he's leaving behind. He wouldn't normally hesitate to bring an assault like that to the police, but there's no way this won't spiral into a city-wide werewolf hunt. He doesn't want to get tangled up in it, especially when he won't be himself for the next few days.

"You'll need to get out of the city for a while," Kurt says quietly. He rests a hand on the back of the werewolf's neck as they cross one of the busier streets. There are more people over here, and though they look at him suspiciously they don't say anything. Most of the residents know about Kurt, and if they think the werewolf is anything other than a giant dog, they're probably assuming it's another one of Mr. Schuester's experiments. No one could fathom that a werewolf would walk docilely down a city street.

They reach Burt's steam repair shop without incident, and Kurt sighs in relief as he walks around back to the wooden steps that lead up to his apartment. He stops at the bottom landing and crouches down, grabbing the werewolf's ears and looking into his eyes.

"Listen, hairball, I appreciate what you did for me, and I'm definitely not crying over you killing that bastard, but you should be careful. I don't know what you may have done, nor do I particularly care, but people in this city are absurdly afraid of your kind and finding that body is only going to fuel that. Do you understand me?"

The werewolf nods, then darts forward to lick Kurt's nose. Kurt scrunches up his face at the contact and looks at the werewolf through squinted eyes. The werewolf growls deep in his throat but it's not a menacing sound, just full of some emotion he can't vocalize. He leans in and licks at Kurt again, several short licks right across his mouth. He pulls back and runs off without a second glance, and Kurt watches him go, feeling dazed. Did that werewolf seriously just kiss him?


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you for the kind feedback! I had a message concerned about the infidelity warning, so I wanted to address that in case it's putting off any potential readers: Kurt and Blaine do not cheat on each other, as they are the endgame pairing for this story. Sam does have his own happy ending, though it will not be with Kurt. I'm okay with spoiling that aspect of the plot because I know that I myself like to know what pairing I'm getting into when I read fanfic.

I don't know if I should apologize for this entire chapter being porn, or tell you that you're welcome. Next chapter will be up Saturday.

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><p>.<p>

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"Kurt." Sam knocks harder on the door. "Kurt, come on. You can't break up with me every time you go into heat!"

"Yes I can!" Kurt yells through the closed door. "I don't want you to see me, and I sure as fuck can't stand smelling you right now, so _please_, just go away." Kurt is breathing raggedly, low whines escaping his throat every time he moves. He's so hard he feels like he's dying, but his poor dick is already chafed from getting himself off nonstop for the past two days. He clenches his fist around the doorknob and presses his face against the wood, hoping Sam will actually listen to him for once. This isn't a new thing, so Kurt can't figure out why Sam is still trying.

"I got you something, alright? I talked to that old cat lady, the widow Miller? She said..." Sam trails off and Kurt yowls in frustration.

"What, Sam, that I should go on over and give her toms a treat? You already know the neighborhood strays sit outside my fucking door the entire time I'm in heat, waiting to cat rape me." Kurt's not sure what it is about his heat that causes him to swear like a sailor; he normally has a much better grasp of vocabulary.

"They're actually not here today," Sam says, sounding puzzled. "I just... don't want to yell this? It's kind of embarrassing. Can't you just crack open the door?"

Kurt rolls his eyes but does it anyway, unlocking his collection of deadbolts and rolling the gear away from the floor lock. He fits his body in the doorway and gives Sam his best look of impatient indignation.

"Look," Sam says quietly, "just...she said when her lady cats are in heat, she stops it by, uh, making them think they've had sex. She uses a thermometer, but I figured that's too small to do you any good, so I got you this."

Sam holds out a glass cylinder and Kurt stares at it in confusion. He doesn't move to take it, so Sam picks up Kurt's hand and awkwardly wraps it around the thing for him. "It seems like a good size, right?"

"A good size for what?"

Sam blushes and averts his eyes, scuffing his foot on the floor. "C'mon, Kurt, you can figure it out. Use some of that lotion Schue made up for you." Sam drops his hand and Kurt has no choice but to hold the thing, turning it over in his hands, realization dawning. One end is slightly tapered and rounded off, and the other is bulbous. It looks a bit like a type of beaker Mr. Schuester uses, but it's solid instead of hollow.

"You got me a glass penis," Kurt says flatly. He tightens his hand around it and yeah, it does seem like a nice size, not too intimidating but enough to get the job done, but he's not- he's never-

"You won't let me help you," Sam says, quiet but earnest, "so I thought you could use that. It might make your heat end quicker."

"I suppose," Kurt says after a beat, "that you expect me to thank you for buying me an imitation penis."

"It's called a dildo, and I don't..." Sam sighs. "Look, Kurt, I realize this is kind of a weird thing to give your boyfriend who still won't have sex with you after a year and a half, but I know sex freaks you out, so maybe this will help you get used to it. Maybe you'll even like it, and maybe next time we can-"

"Do _not_ finish that sentence, Sam." Sam opens his stupid mouth to start talking again and Kurt hisses, pushing him through the doorway. He slams the door and goes to work on the locks. He can hear Sam muttering to himself on the other side of the door and feels a twinge of guilt, because Sam really is just looking out for him, but he's still overstepped. "I'll see you in two days, Sam," Kurt calls through the door. "And it's only been fourteen months, and we're seventeen, so stop acting like I'm an old maid!"

Kurt huffs as he stalks back to his bedroom, tail twitching in annoyance. He throws the dildo on the bed and sits down next to it, pulling his tail onto his lap to groom it. The thing is, when he's not under the influence of the crazy sexual urges his heat brings on, Kurt doesn't feel like a very sexual person. He doesn't like being touched too much, and he's a little embarrassed about his body and it's apparent gender confusion- Kurt has no idea why he even _has_ a heat cycle, let alone the six nipples. He and Sam kiss and cuddle every once in a while, but when Sam tries to escalate things Kurt always pushes him away. It's not like Kurt doesn't want more, because he does, or at least he thinks he might. He just doesn't want it with Sam.

He trusts Sam, and loves him as a friend, but he's never felt like he could bare himself completely to him. Kurt knows he comes off as naive and a bit prudish, but the truth is that sex terrifies him, not just because he's afraid of how much he doesn't know about the act itself, but because of how much he wants it in moments like this. He's pretty sure that when he does give himself over to someone completely, he will lose all of his carefully cultivated control and turn into some shameless, begging, wanton animal. Just like his sister.

Kurt drops his tail and picks up the dildo again. He sniffs it, but it doesn't really smell like anything, nor does it have much of a taste when he darts out his tongue to give it a quick lick. He wonders, though, what it would be like, if he would be good at it. He doesn't think about these things when he's not in heat, but he can't help but fantasize while his brain is functioning under a cloud of lust. He's always mortified at himself afterward, but when he's alone and so turned on he thinks he might combust, he lets his instincts take over.

He lays down, leaving the dildo at the head of his bed while he rolls around, twisting around in the blankets for a few glorious minutes until he comes to rest on his stomach. He wriggles his hips into the mattress, getting comfortable propped up on his elbows, and reaches for the dildo. He holds the base in both hands, letting it rest on the mattress, and tentatively laps at the head of it. He feels a bit silly, but he's still hard and tired of just jacking off. He closes his eyes and lowers his mouth over the first couple of inches, getting used to the feel of it. The glass is cold and hard, but it quickly becomes slick and Kurt moans as he sucks lightly. His mouth starts to water as he imagines it's a real cock, and he knows it will be infinitely better when it's attached to a real person and he can smell their arousal and feel their warmth.

It still feels good like this, Kurt's hips rolling into the mattress as he lowers his mouth further down the glass shaft, practicing how to keep his teeth out of the way (because there's no way anyone would want Kurt's incisors cutting up their dick) and working his tongue as he bobs up and down. He's drooling everywhere, and he keeps one hand on the base while he moves the other in tandem with his mouth, the feel of his hand sliding down the slick glass making him even hotter. He's making a lot more noise than he usually does, desperate mewling sounds that he'd be embarrassed for anyone else to hear, but he's alone with no one to judge him for being so slutty and desperate for it ,so he moans even louder.

Kurt pulls off and laves his tongue across the tip, imagining that he's got this other man close to coming. He thinks he'd like letting someone come on his face, the way it would make him feel marked and owned. As he rubs the slick tip of the dildo all across his wet lips he can almost feel it, the come spurting all over his mouth and chin; he imagines the other man leaning down to lick it off of him and then Kurt really is coming, his orgasm sparking through him unexpectedly as he rubs himself hard against the mattress. There's nothing left in him after coming so many times, so he doesn't worry about cleaning up. He rolls across his bed to the patch of sunlight by the window, sprawling out with the dildo still clutched in his hand as he basks, purring loudly. He is going to be fucking awesome at sex, once he manages to get there.

When he wakes up from his nap, the sun is down and Kurt is hard again. He's excited about it instead of annoyed, so he wastes no time in yanking his clothes off and rearranging his blankets. He spreads himself out on the sheet, tail flicking anxiously as he examines the dildo again. It's about as wide as three of his fingers, so Kurt decides to just go for it, bringing it between his legs and nudging it against his entrance. He's lost count of how many times he's fingered himself over the past couple of days, but it's never enough. He always feels this empty ache between his legs when he's in heat, which he tries to satisfy with his hands, but the angle is awkward and he feels like he should be getting more out of it.

He's plenty wet from all the stimulation, and the tip glides easily around the ring of muscle as Kurt circles his wrist. It doesn't go in when he pushes; he can feel his ass working against the intrusion and it stings as he tries to force himself open. He pulls it back slightly and just rubs it over his hole, a low hum of pleasure building under his skin. He uses his other hand to palm at his balls, pulling them up so he can rub the end of the dildo over the sensitive skin underneath. He moans, digging his heels into the mattress and canting his hips up for a better angle. He slides the dildo back down, rolling the head of it in little circles around his hole as he exhales deeply, relaxing all of his muscles, feeling boneless and sated and finally the tip of it slips in. Kurt lets out a long sigh and slides it all the way in, cupping his hand around the large rounded bottom of it as he adjusts to the feeling.

It's so much better than his fingers, but the unforgiving hardness of the glass is just weird, and he already wishes it were bigger. The endless drag as he pulls it out and pushes it back in is so good, though, so unlike anything he's felt, and soon Kurt is a trembling mess as he fucks himself steadily. He's panting, rolling his whole body into the movement, but he wants it to last so he doesn't touch his cock, using one hand to hold the base of the dildo while he runs the fingers of the other around where it enters his body, feeling the skin stretched around the glass. There's a damp spot beneath him on the sheets; he's so much wetter than he's ever been and he loves how slick and open he feels as he works the dildo in and out of himself.

He shifts on the bed, changing the angle of his hips and suddenly he's dragging the dildo across something that sends pleasure shooting up his spine like he's never felt before. He tries to keep the same angle but he doesn't last long, his orgasm building quickly with each thrust of the glass against that spot, toes curling rhythmically in the sheets, and then his back is arching off the bed as he yowls and comes harder than he thought possible.

He lays panting for a long time, feeling too blissed out to move. The dildo slips out of him at some point, and Kurt sets it on the floor next to his bed- he'll clean it tomorrow. He rolls around half-heartedly, too tired to move much, and nestles into a pile of blankets. He reaches out and kneads at a folded bit of blanket in front of him, purring contentedly, until he falls asleep.

The sun wakes him the next morning, and Kurt is only mildly disappointed to realize the trick hasn't worked. He's definitely still in heat, and he definitely spends the entire day and most of the next morning in bed, alternating naps with playing with his new toy. His cycle fades during the next afternoon, and the shame of how he's acted starts to settle in.

Every room in his apartment reeks of come and sweat. Kurt gathers his bedding to bring to the laundromat and leaves all the windows open to air the place out. He tidies up quickly, wanting to come home to an apartment that doesn't resemble a brothel. The dildo gets wrapped in an old shirt and hidden it in the back of his wardrobe with a solemn promise to never use it again. It's nearly fall, so Kurt probably won't go into heat again until next spring. Maybe he'll have given in to Sam by then, and he can find out if having another person around makes his heat any more bearable.

When he steps onto the landing, a familiar yet unexpected scent surrounds him. It only gets stronger as he walks carefully down the stairs, dragging his bag of laundry, and by the time he reaches the bottom he realizes why his usual harem of male stray cats hasn't been stalking the building during this cycle: the werewolf had been back, and he'd marked his territory.


	3. Chapter 3

The little bell tinkles merrily when Kurt pushes open the door to Ginger House the next morning. He's been apprenticed to Miss Pillsbury for two years now, and she's extremely understanding about giving him time off. Kurt suspects she's only so accommodating because she's even more terrified of sex than he is and would rather lose his assistance than have to talk about or deal with his brazen sexual urges. He only goes into heat three or four times each summer, so it hasn't been too much of a burden yet.

"Good morning Kurt!" Miss Pillsbury swivels around on her chair to face him. She's set up in front of a burgandy velvet frock coat on a men's dress form, and her eyes are as wide as the oversized silver buttons she's stitching down the front of it. "Are you feeling better? Are you sure you don't need another day off? You know you can take as much time as you need."

"Completely back to normal," Kurt assures her. He steps over to his work bench and smiles at the pile of sketches and fabric swatches he'd left littered on it. He carefully removes his top hat and sets it on the mannequin head he keeps mounted on the wall; his coat gets hung on the ornate brass hook next to it.

"We have a gentleman coming in at one to pick up this coat I've repaired for him, which I only agreed to do because he wants to order quite a few garments." Ginger House, Custom Clothiers, makes only the finest bespoke clothing, each piece custom made to the client's specifications. They don't normally perform the work of a petty seamstress. Miss Pillsbury smiles at him and lowers her voice conspiratorially. "He asked to consult with you specifically, despite you only being an apprentice."

"Oh?" Kurt preens. There's nothing he loves more than unfettered reign over another man's wardrobe, and he suspects if he does well enough with such an important client he'll finally be promoted to journeyman. "What happened to the coat? It's gorgeous." Kurt wanders over to run a hand down the soft velvet of the sleeve, smitten by the richness of the fabric.

"I don't really know, but it's the strangest thing. It looks like it's never been worn but all the seams were just split open." Miss Pillsbury splays her fingers and widens her eyes, personifying the seams bursting. She's a brilliant dressmaker, but Kurt sometimes thinks she's a bit unhinged. "There was a button missing, too, so I had to replace the whole set. There's no sense in a mismatched button, Kurt."

"Of course not," Kurt says absently. The scent wafting off the coat is intriguing but faint, so Kurt leans in and noses at the lapel, smelling sandalwood and something vaguely familiar he can't place. It's nice, though, comforting, and Kurt tilts his jaw up to rub his scent glands over the coat shoulder closest to him.

"Um, Kurt? What are you doing?" Kurt steps back and shrugs at Miss Pillsbury.

"It's a nice coat. I like it."

"So you were... telling the coat you like it?"

"Something like that. Where do you want me to start today?" There's a whole pile of pattern pieces from the last couple of clients that need to be relabeled and filed, and correspondence with several fabric suppliers to deal with, not to mention the more boring tasks that usually fall to him, like taking inventory.

"Actually, I was hoping you could finish the gown for the Fabrays today." Miss Pillsbury smiles at him knowingly and Kurt claps his hands together once as his tail flicks in excitement. He's being specifically trained in tailoring, but embellishing women's wear is Kurt's guilty pleasure.

The finishing touches are tedious, but Kurt is detail oriented and the morning goes by in a happy blur of hand stitching. All of the trim has been basted, and the gown has already been fit, so all he has to do is make it permanent. His tail swishes in lazy arcs as he works, humming and singing softly to himself. Tina harmonizes occasionally from her side of the work room, having bustled in late as usual. She leaves with Miss Pillsbury for lunch around noon, but Kurt is nearly done and waves them off so he can stay and finish without distraction.

"That's beautiful," a voice says above him. From where he's kneeling at the hem of the gown, all Kurt sees are expensive shoes and soft leather spats. When he looks up he nearly swallows his tongue-the man that voice belongs to is dark haired, tan and gorgeous, smiling down at him and offering a hand up. Kurt carefully tucks his needle into the fabric to hold his place and takes the hand, looking him up and down as he unfolds his legs and rolls gracefully to his feet, admiring the other man's finely tailored dark gray suit and top hat. His puff tie is dark blue silk, the wingtips of his shirt collar and the pearl tie tack setting it off perfectly, and Kurt nearly whimpers at the fine brocade of his silver vest, crossed by a silver watch chain.

"Blaine Anderson. I take it you're Kurt Hummel?"

"Yes. That's me." Kurt is very aware of the fact that he is still holding Mr. Anderson's hand, but he hasn't slackened his grip yet, so Kurt doesn't either. He doesn't know whether to be flattered or annoyed when Mr. Anderson raises their hands to his mouth and kisses his knuckles, so he just quirks his eyebrows in skepticism. His nostrils flare slightly and Kurt gets the distinct impression that Mr. Anderson has just sniffed his skin, but Kurt had just scent marked a stranger's coat, so he's not really in a position to judge.

"I know the voice may be confusing, but I can assure you I'm no lady," Kurt says sharply, readying his bitch face in case the man turns out to be a jerk.

"I am definitely aware of that." Mr. Anderson smiles at him and gives his hand a squeeze before letting go. "I just like to make my preferences known early on. It saves a lot of potential confusion."

"I see," Kurt says a little breathlessly, a strange sense of longing starting to curl in his belly. Mr. Anderson's smile softens into something fond, and Kurt returns it in kind. He suddenly notices the strong smell of sandalwood. "Oh! That's your coat. Miss Pillsbury said I was expecting a special client; I didn't realize you were him. She had to step out for a minute, I think she was expecting you later."

"My apologies, my other business finished early." Mr. Anderson rocks up onto the balls of his feet, looking around the shop with interest. His voice turns gravely serious as he fixes his eyes, which are twinkling with mischief, back on Kurt's. "The rumors are true, I have come for my coat and to beg for your help."

Kurt bites his lip to keep from laughing. "Sounds serious, Mr. Anderson. What can I do for you?"

"What _can't_ you do for me?" Mr. Anderson murmurs. Kurt blanches. Of course Mr. Anderson would think he's available for 'other business.'

"Let's just talk about the clothes you require." Kurt doesn't look at the other man as he moves around, pulling out fabric samples and his drawing portfolio, feeling irritated and vaguely embarrassed.

"I'm sorry, I was only teasing. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." He sounds sincere and Kurt nods, getting his inkwell and some writing paper out. Perhaps Mr. Anderson is just profoundly awful at flirting, and doesn't actually think Kurt is a whore?

"It's fine. You wanted a revamped wardrobe? I have a coat design I've been dying to make for someone, if you need another, and for the suits we really should talk about doing at least one in pinstripes." Kurt taps his fountain pen into the inkwell and purses his lips pensively. "I know it's not quite proper, but I love making shirts as well. You'll find they're much more elaborate than what the ladies of your family are making. How do you feel about pintucking?"

"Mr. Hummel." Kurt stops writing his list and looks at the hands braced on the workbench across from him, his gaze traveling up the strong arms to Mr. Anderson's face. "Miss Pillsbury showed me your work, and now that I've seen your style first hand I'm even more impressed." His voice drops in volume as he leans forward, a strangely intimate tableau in the middle of the shop. "You're gorgeous, and you can dress me however you want."

"Um." Kurt stares at the paper in front of him, his face flushing hotly. "I appreciate your confidence. But I have a boyfriend. Just so you know."

"Does he dress as well as you?"

Kurt lets out a startled breath. "No, I mean, he's a master chemist's apprentice, so he goes for a more practical approach." Kurt fidgets, not really sure how to feel about Mr. Anderson, who is watching him with unfounded intensity. Kurt doesn't even feel particularly stylish today; he's wearing all black, like he often does after a heat, to symbolically mourn the death of his slutty alter ego for another season. The intricately tied lace cravat and pleated bib front shirt might be a little eccentric for daily wear, but they contrast nicely with the knee-high riding boots he's wearing over his slim fitting trousers.

"You two must make quite the picture," Blaine says eventually, not pulling back despite the lack of personal space between them. "I've only been in town for a few weeks, so I hope you can forgive me if I'm not up to speed on all of the social happenings. I was silly to assume you'd be available, Mr. Hummel."

"No offense taken." Kurt finally flicks his eyes back up to meet the other man's, and finds it hard to catch his breath. He normally hates it when men flirt with him, but Mr. Anderson's expression is so endearing that it's hard to be upset by it. If he's only been in town for a few weeks, he most likely doesn't know about Brittany. He's flirting with Kurt because he's attracted to him, not because he thinks Kurt will instantly roll over for him. That knowledge relaxes Kurt immensely, and he smiles at Mr. Anderson.

Of course, Tina and Miss Pillsbury choose that moment to enter the shop.

"Oh!" Miss Pillsbury rushes to take Mr. Anderson's hand, looking flustered. "I'm so sorry I wasn't here to introduce you to Kurt, Mr. Anderson. I must have lost track of the time?" She looks with wild eyes at the clock on back wall, an ornate mess of oversized gears and brass finials that display the cycle of the moon and seasons in addition to the time. Miss Pillsbury sighs in relief as the gleaming hands indicate it's barely past twelve thirty.

"It's quite alright, I was unexpectedly early. Mr. Hummel was just about to work out the terms of my order, if I haven't embarrassed myself too much for him to work with me."

"It's fine," Kurt says quickly. Tina peers at Kurt from her hiding spot behind Miss Pillsbury, her raised eyebrows the only thing visible over their Miss Pillsbury's shoulder. Kurt blushes and averts his eyes. Tina's a huge gossip, and will undoubtedly expect all of the details later.

"Well, I'll leave you to it, then." Miss Pillsbury tilts her head at Kurt as she walks by, trying to convey something with her huge eyes, though Kurt isn't sure what it is. It mostly looks like she's forgotten how to blink.

Tina gives Kurt's tail a fond tug and beams at Mr. Anderson. "Lovely to meet you, Mr. Anderson. I'm Tina Cohen-Chang, the other apprentice, if you ever need anything."

Blaine takes her offered hand and presses his lips to it politely. "I'll let you know."

"Alright, enough pleasantries, I'll at least need your measurements if you won't give me any other guidance." Kurt leads Mr. Anderson to the private mirrored room in the back of the store. "I'll just give you a minute."

"Nonsense, stay and talk to me." Mr. Anderson shrugs off his jacket and places it on the wooden valet, followed by his top hat. He slowly undresses, making small talk about the city and asking Kurt about the expected weather, until he's in his underclothes.

Kurt swallows thickly and steps forward, gesturing for Mr. Anderson to step up on the raised platform. He doesn't normally have a difficult time taking measurements, but his hands shake as he wraps the measuring tape around each part of Mr. Anderson's body. Mr. Anderson thankfully stays quiet as Kurt records the necessary numbers, though he seems hurt that Kurt does his best to hurry him out of the shop.

Once he's gone, Kurt hides in the back room and presses one hand over his mouth, the other over the bulge in his pants. It must be a lingering effect of his heat; he's never gotten hard while measuring a client before. It certainly has nothing to do with the fact that Mr. Anderson has the most attractive body he's ever measured. 

* * *

><p>The image of a nearly naked Mr. Anderson stays with Kurt throughout the week as he sketches clothes to fit that gorgeous body. He knows Sam is well built, too, and probably even more muscular than Mr. Anderson, but he's never seen Sam undressed. He made Miss Pillsbury take his measurements when he wanted to start making clothes for Sam, too embarrassed to see his boyfriend like that in the early stages of their relationship. He'd still be embarrassed to see him like that now, despite how much Sam would surely love to show off for him.<p>

Kurt nearly trips over his feet as he walks home, now imagining both Blaine _and_ Sam naked. And doing things. _Doing things naked together_. Had his last heat permanently altered his brain? Oh god, what if he's this entranced with sex for the rest of his life?

"Hey, kiddo!" Burt calls as Kurt approaches.

Kurt snaps out of his mental debauchery and trots over to the open bay of the steam repair shop. Between his heat last week and the work involved in Mr. Anderson's order, Kurt hasn't seen much of his family. Kurt loves Burt the way he supposes a boy would love a father, though it's hard for him to know. The strangeness of Kurt's existence means it's sometimes difficult for Kurt to understand the intricacies of human emotion and connection.

"Evening, Burt." Kurt leans in for a hug but stops short when he realizes how filthy Burt's clothes are. Burt laughs, pushing his goggles up onto his bald head and stepping away from the boiler he's tinkering with. Kurt smiles and clutches the strap of his bag. "How is everyone?"

"Good, good." Burt pulls off his heavy leather gloves and stuffs them into the back pocket of his pants. "Carole's been asking after you, you should come to dinner tonight. Finn'll be around too."

"Sure. No doubt I've missed some scandalous gossip this past week."

Burt huffs. "As if I'd know any of that."

There's a loud clang from inside the shop and a muffled curse. "I'm fine!" Finn yells. Kurt bites his lip to stop from laughing and Burt rubs a hand over his face, sighing loudly.

"That kid. I'll tell ya, it'll be a miracle if he lives long enough to inherit the shop."

"I still can't believe he's managed to avoid any serious steam burns." Kurt peers at the long tables covered in partially deconstructed machines and spare parts, wondering what they're working on. Burt smiles at him fondly and Kurt feels sheepish. He loves his work at Ginger House, but Kurt's always been fascinated by the mechanics of the latest technology. If Finn hadn't been around, Kurt probably would have asked to apprentice under Burt.

"You want a special project?" Kurt blinks and looks away from the open bay. Burt's frowning and he looks more tired than usual.

"What's going on?"

"Another train jumped the track, on that bend through the western woods. All of the engineers are stumped, so they asked me and a coupla guys to take a fresh look."

"Have you yet?"

"Sure have, and none of us could find anything wrong with the tracks or the train. We've looked all over it, but it's just like they said about the others. There's nothing wrong."

"Huh." Kurt rubs at his arms as a gust of wind blows past. Fall is approaching, and if the problem with the trains isn't fixed by winter, they'll have a hard time getting coal and timber in to power the city. "How many does that make?"

"Five in the last three weeks now. All at different points on the line, different trains leaving at different times. There's got to be some connection."

Kurt hikes his bag up and frowns. "How can I help?"

"You're a smart kid, Kurt." Burt claps him on the shoulder and Kurt's mouth twitches up at the corner. "Why don't you take Sam and go check out the logs tomorrow, see if you can figure out any connection. Buddy of mine said someone was looking into the cargo and passengers but couldn't make anything decent out of it."

"Okay. I can't promise I'll find anything, but who am I to deny the masses my intellectual prowess?"

Burt chuckles. "Just give it a look, that's all I'm asking. I'll see you in an hour at the house, alright?"

"Sure. See you." Kurt meanders around the building to the back steps, nose twitching as he climbs them. He'd noticed that morning that the werewolf had freshened up his markings sometime during the night. The possessive way this creature is apparently looking out for him is oddly comforting, and Kurt desperately and inexplicably wishes that he could see him again.


	4. Chapter 4

A much longer chapter today :) I know there is a lot of background information that hasn't been fully explained yet, but it will slowly unravel so please don't be confused. I'm shooting for updates every Wednesday and Saturday, though my beta and I both have a lot going on so please forgive us if I have to post later every once in a while. Thank you so much for the wonderful feedback so far! I know there is a lot of Kurt/Sam in these first chapters, but Kurt/Blaine is the endgame pairing for this story so I hope the hardcore shippers can be patient.

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

Kurt rubs his eyes and sighs. He and Sam have been sitting in a stuffy back office looking over the train manifests for an hour now, trying to find some detail to connect the derailings.

"This is pointless," Sam says, flipping the cover shut on a leather-bound log book. "Remind me again why I'm here?"

"Because you're a good boyfriend?" Kurt smiles sweetly at Sam and flutters his eyelashes. Sam laughs and gets up to lean over Kurt, hugging him from behind and kissing his neck. "We can go in a minute, I just want to ask the station master about this notation." Kurt flips a few pages back and points to a note in the margin.

"Does that say 'begin Pink Power Powder?'"

"Maybe." Sam leans in, squinting at the barely legible scribbles. "What the heck does that mean?"

"I don't know, but it started a couple of weeks before the first derailing. It's literally the only thing they have in common, whatever it means." Kurt pushes the chair back with a loud scrape and stands up, leaning into Sam and nuzzling his neck. "Where's that delightful station master?" Sam pets Kurt's lower back for a moment before taking his hand and drawing him out into the chaos of the rail yard.

"Madame Beiste?" Sam calls, looking around the area they'd last seen her. His voice is swallowed up by the clanging of steel and the hissing of steam, and it's impossible to hear a response. Kurt grimaces, covering his human ears and flattening his cat ears in an attempt to muffle the sound.

"I hate this," Kurt yells. "It feels like my brain is splitting open." Most of the time, Kurt isn't bothered by his enhanced hearing, but the cacophony of sounds from the rail yard is overwhelming and almost painful.

Sam frowns in sympathy and covers Kurt's cat ears with his palms, rubbing his fingers in small circles to massage his scalp. Kurt curls into him, squeezing his eyes shut and hiding his face in Sam's neck. The gaze of the nearby rail workers is a tangible thing, sending a cold shudder through him. His tail curls between his legs in shame as one man whistles at them. "Can we please leave," Kurt whimpers into Sam's ear.

"Let's find Beiste. You can hang on for a minute longer." Kurt nods and Sam strokes his hair comfortingly. He slides a hand down to twine with Kurt's, pulling him down the wooden walkway between the buildings. He has to ask three people before someone directs them to the ticket office, where Beiste is apparently bemoaning their rapidly declining sales.

"You boys have any luck? We've been more confused than a one-winged pigeon pecking around a pile of horse shit."

Kurt blinks and side-eyes Sam. Madame Beiste is a bear of a woman, dressed in men's clothing and smoking a massive cigar. She wears a leather cap over her short curls, crossed by the leather straps of a complicated monogoggle. She reaches up and flips one lens out of the way, rotating two others into its place.

"I was looking out over the hills," she explains, puffing on her cigar and blowing the smoke out the ticket buying window.

Kurt clasps his hand behind his back and straightens his spine. "I don't know if it's relevant," he says carefully, "but I was wondering what the, um, Pink Power Powder is? There's a note about it being used before the accidents started."

"It's a fuel additive." Beiste frowns and snuffs out the cigar, dropping it onto an ashtray shaped like an engine car. "You think it might be messing with my trains?"

"I'm not sure. Where did it come from?"

"And who _named_ it?" Sam mutters.

"You know that crazy alchemist Ryerson? He's started making things that are actually useful." Beiste shakes her head and snorts out a laugh. "You're right, though. I've heard better names on dogs at a church pie eating contest."

Kurt exchanges another glance with Sam, eyebrow raised as high as it will go. "Be that as it may, I don't know why a fuel additive would cause enough of a mechanical breakdown for the trains to jump the tracks. If it was a defective batch, it would just damage the boilers and stop the train. What exactly does it do?"

"Makes the coal burn hotter, quicker, and longer. It's reduced our coal use by almost forty percent. I know it's crazy to say, but it seems to make the trains just run smoother. Our ridership went up eleven percent, and I think it's because the ride's more pleasant." Beiste sighs and shakes her head sadly. "The past couple of weeks, of course, it's been cut by more than half. No one wants to ride a death trap."

"What's in it?" Sam asks bluntly. "Sounds like he imbued it with magic."

"Don't use that tone with me, Sunshine. We all know that's legal now." Beiste stares at them and Kurt shifts his weight from foot to foot, feeling awkward. Sam and Mr. Schuester don't think too highly of magic or the people who practice it, despite recent laws legalizing basic magic for non-nefarious purposes. Kurt isn't exactly sure how he feels about it, so he tries not to bring it up around Sam for fear of being lectured on the inherent evils of magic.

"So... could we have a sample? I promise we won't try to replicate it, we just want to find out why your patrons are being needlessly killed." Kurt gives Beiste his most angelic smile, though it quickly falters as Beiste begins to cry. Kurt takes a step toward her, but she waves him off and turns her face upward, sniffling and blinking rapidly.

"I'm sorry, boys. It's just so painful for me to think about all the lives I hold in my hands every day. Those trains are like my children, and to think that I willfully gave my children poison? Poison that made them wander off the careful paths I laid for them? I let families ride on my children, and my children killed those families."

"Err." Sam hesitantly pats her on the shoulder. "It might not be anything you did. If you let us do some experiments with the powder, we can rule it out."

Beiste nods, sniffing again. She picks up a riding crop that had been leaning against the desk and strides to the door, yanking it open. "Azimio!" she bellows, smacking the crop against the door frame. Kurt winces.

A heavyset young man wanders over, looking completely put out. "What now?" he whines. Kurt looks at him curiously; it's been a while since he's seen someone with such dark skin, and he wonders how far he must have traveled to get to the city.

"You watch your attitude," Madame Beiste barks. "Get me a sample of the triple P."

Azimio sighs and saunters off. It seems to take forever for him to return, though Kurt's pocket watch tells him it's been less than five minutes. Beiste stands stoically while they wait, and when Azimio strolls back in she twitches the crop in his direction, though she doesn't actually hit him.

"You move slower than a crippled horse in tar pit, Azimio. I want an update on that private car construction in twenty."

Azimio thrusts a small jar at her before storming away, muttering under his breath.

"I'm gonna get that kid straightened out if it kills me," she says with an exasperated shake of her head, though her fond smile makes Kurt think she must enjoy whipping subordinates into shape. "Here you go, kids."

"Oh," Sam says when Madame Beiste hands him the jar, "it really is a pink powder."

Madame Beiste snorts, but Kurt jumps in before she can spout another weird metaphor. "We'll look at this right away and let you know what we find."

* * *

><p>.<p>

"Explain this to me again." Kurt looks from the crystal to the glass vial filled with pink liquid and back to Sam. "I'm supposed to walk around dangling this and _what_ exactly is supposed to happen?"

"It's called dowsing. Look, it's not something me or Schue would normally do, but we're both sure that powder has some sort of magic component, so we have to try some stupid magic to figure it out." Sam holds up his identical contraption and lets the chain uncoil. Suspended near the bottom is a raw crystal, and a few inches below that is a vial of a solution made from the Pink Power Powder. "The crystal channels earth energy or something, and the solution should work like a filter to point us toward its components."

"I will humor you in this, but when it fails I hope you have a backup plan." Sam shrugs. "Sam!"

"What? I'm a chemist, not an alchemist or a witch. Let's just see if this does anything." Sam stands very still and holds the top of the chain in front of him. It swings a bit from momentum, but gradually settles until it just hangs straight down.

"_Thrilling_. Now do we wait for a stiff breeze?"

"No, we need to walk around a little. Come on." Sam starts walking away from Mr. Schuester's shop slowly, watching the pendulum quiver. Kurt sighs and lets his chain drop, quickly catching up with Sam.

"Mine's swinging more."

"Because you're not taking this seriously, Kurt. If you're going to do it, then at least do it right."

"Okay. Fine." Kurt stiffens his posture and walks deliberately next to Sam, their pendulums swaying with the motion of their strides.

Fifteen minutes later, they're approaching the poorer residential side of town when Kurt has an epiphany.

"Oh my god, you're an idiot."

"What?"

"We should be walking the tracks, Sam. If you think about it in terms of a magical pull, or whatever this inane dowsing is about, it's like the trains were literally pulled from the track."

"That's... an interesting theory." Sam stops and rubs his chin thoughtfully.

"Oh, come on. We're not going to get anywhere swinging some chains around town." Kurt pockets his pendulum and links his arm through Sam's. "If you're lucky, I'll let you kiss me up against a tree."

Sam bumps his hip into Kurt's and picks up their pace. It's still a long walk back through town to the rail yard, so Kurt starts singing a song he knows Sam can harmonize with. They end up doing a medley of all the current songs they know, dropping one when they can't remember the next verse and jumping right into another. Kurt's laughing by the time they reach the tracks, giddy enough that he doesn't pay any attention to the catcalls of the rail workers.

Sam notices, though. "Do they think I'm your pimp or something? Like we're dating but I'll gladly loan you out? I really don't get it." He gives the men a dirty look as they hop up onto the main track, walking in the direction of the latest accident. All westbound train services are stopped until further notice, so they don't have to worry about getting run over.

"I don't know either," Kurt says quietly. Despite how obvious their relationship is, men still hit on Kurt in front of Sam all the time. He pulls the pendulum out and holds it steady, waiting for Sam to do the same. "A guy once asked me if I stayed with you to repay you for creating me. Like I'm Frankenstein's monster."

"I wasn't even there when you were transformed, what the hell." Sam kicks angrily at a rail tie and then has to wait for his pendulum to steady itself again. "Is five years really such a long time that people can't remember how things actually happened?"

"Guess so." Kurt starts walking, keeping his eye on the vial as it sways. Every time Kurt thinks his pendulum might be swinging toward something, he double-checks with Sam and realizes he's just started tilting his hand.

"How far have we gone?" Kurt asks, tone on the edge of whining. They've been walking forever and he's tired of holding this stupid crystal on a chain and expecting anything to come of it.

Sam unearths his pocket watch and squints at it. "Three miles? We've been walking for nearly an hour."

Kurt growls a little and quickens his pace. "Once we pass that bend I want to turn around. We can come back with a couple of auto-cycles tomorrow if we want to go further." Kurt hardly ever has occasion to borrow the steam-powered transports from Burt, but they should be easy enough to ride down the tracks.

"Sure." Sam hurries to catch up with him, looking at their surroundings. "There's nothing out here, just forest. I have no idea what natural component could be used in this stuff."

"Mmmhmm." Kurt glares at his pendulum, willing it to give them some direction. It sways a little to the right and Kurt sighs. That's how these things work- you want it to show you something, so you subconsciously make it happen. Kurt stops and steadies his hand, but the vial stays angled to the right. "Sam?"

"Yeah." Kurt glances over and Sam's looking at his own vial, which is also pulling to the right. "Come on, let's head this way." They carefully step off the tracks, holding their pendulums in front of them as they follow the pull. Their chains are straining forward, toward whatever it is that must have affected the trains.

"This is crazy," Kurt mutters. They're in the woods now, carefully stepping over roots and pushing aside branches. "I can't believe this is working."

"What's crazy is that all of the trains must've been affected differently, since they were all pulled off the tracks at different places. We'll have to figure that out next."

"Oh." Kurt stops walking and chews his bottom lip, a heavy ball of unease settling inside of him. "No, that's not it at all. The magic must be moving. Some of the accidents were worse than others, it must not pull as strongly the farther away it is."

"How could it be moving? Like a fluctuating energy vein?"

"Maybe. Or a magical creature."

"Hey, maybe it's a unicorn." Sam starts walking again and Kurt follows, eyes darting between the pendulum and the trees, wary of what may be lurking in the woods. "At least we know we can approach it, if it is one."

"See, I knew staying a virgin would come in handy," Kurt says airily.

Sam remains silent and Kurt's smile falls off his face. The topic of sex isn't something he normally mentions, since Kurt is beginning to stress over how long he can put off being intimate with Sam before one of them has to give in.

"Hey, you're going the wrong way." Kurt pauses and looks between their pendulums, which are now pulling in opposite directions. "What's happening?"

"I don't know." Sam frowns and rubs a hand over his face, sighing loudly. "I should have asked Terri to come, but Schue was being all weird about her again. She brought me the crystals and then they had one of those intense conversations where her eyes get all screwy and he cries without any tears actually falling. I didn't even get to ask her if she knew of any magic deposits out here."

"Well, if you were married to someone for ten years who turned out to secretly be a witch, you'd be weird, too." Kurt snorts. "Magic deposits? That's not even a thing."

Sam gives him an exasperated look. "If you became a witch, I wouldn't leave you. And it is too a thing!"

Kurt huffs and stares at their pendulums. He really wishes Sam would be a little more realistic about their relationship, especially since he's sure that if he actually _did_ become a witch, Sam would do everything he could to sway him back to the side of science. Kurt flinches when his chain starts to vibrate a little, the vial hanging at a forty-five degree angle to the ground. They must be getting close.

"Let's split up," Kurt decides. "The magic could be from two different sources."

"That are both moving?"

"If we follow one, we might have lost the other by then. Maybe dowsing flows through the individual dowser, so we're getting readings in tune with our own personal magical essence. You might find your unicorn, and I'll find some mythical cat."

"You are so full of it," Sam says, though his voice is laced with fondness and it sounds more like a compliment. "Okay. Meet back at the tracks in half an hour? At the dead rabbit carcass we just passed."

"Lovely, Sam. Just lovely." Kurt starts to head off, but Sam grabs him around the waist and pulls him flush against his chest.

"Wait a second." Sam kisses him softly and looks into his eyes. "I love you, okay? Be careful."

"Oh, I had planned on being reckless, but I suppose I'll reconsider." Kurt smirks and Sam rolls his eyes, giving Kurt's rear a swat before releasing him.

"Half an hour."

"Got it." Kurt waves over his shoulder without looking back. His pendulum is physically pulling him forward, stiff and not even swaying as he trots where it leads him. He slows down as the pendulum vibrates and pulls nearly perpendicular to the ground, filled with a mixture of fear and curiosity as he sniffs the air. This is werewolf territory, without a doubt, and Kurt abruptly stops walking as a realization washes over him.

What makes a nice pink color when diluted?

Blood.

Werewolves are one of the strongest and most elusive magical creatures, and they're known to live in roaming packs deep in the woods. Of course, they usually stay much further inland, but Sam had said there had been sightings on the outskirts of the city. Who's to say their blood doesn't have some powerful uses when mixed properly?

Kurt realizes he's panting, heart pounding as he tries to pick out a familiar scent in the mix of markings. If these werewolves don't know him, if they find him wandering through their land, they will kill him. Kurt takes a few frantic steps backward, preparing to break into a run, but he hears the sound of rapidly crunching leaves, and when he turns around there are two werewolves in front of him. Neither one is his wolf.

"I'm sorry, I'm leaving, I just realized this is your land," Kurt babbles frantically. He holds his hands in front of him, trying to show them that he's not a threat. He wonders if they can smell fear, the way people say dogs can.

The wolf with dark brown fur growls and steps forward, snapping at his right hand. Kurt drops the pendulum like it's burning. "The trains- I didn't know what was in it, I just figured it out when I smelled you."

The wolf looks over his shoulder at his companion, a silvery gray wolf with intensely dark eyes, Kurt has no idea what they're thinking. Do they know about the additive? Did they give their blood willingly? Do they think he's here to try to _take_ their blood?

The silver wolf tilts his head up and howls. Kurt's whole body prickles with fear as an answering howl sounds in the distance. He looks through the trees, trying to see if more wolves are joining them, but before he sees or smells anything new, the brown wolf closes his mouth around Kurt's wrist and tugs. Kurt instinctively tries to pull back, but the teeth dig into his skin harder and the wolf growls lowly, a warning. Kurt heeds it and lets the wolf pull him through the forest. He can run faster than most humans, but Kurt has no idea how quickly werewolves can move and he doesn't want to find out by goading them into a chase.

They only walk a short distance before two other wolves are running up to meet them. They're both black, though Kurt instantly recognizes the one with the slightly curly coat as the wolf who saved him. That wolf, his wolf, runs right up to him and barks at the wolf holding Kurt's wrist. The teeth immediately let go, and his wolf licks soothingly over the sore skin, whining and moving all around Kurt, sniffing and nuzzling at him. Kurt looks down and is relieved to see he's not bleeding, though his wrist is sore and will surely bruise.

His wolf finally stops circling and sits in front of Kurt, panting happily, his tail dragging through the leaves as it wags. He turns and lets out a series of barks and yips, communicating something to the other wolves, who are watching them. They bark in response and run off, leaves flying in their wake.

Kurt crouches down and pets behind the werewolf's ears with both hands. "Hello again." The wolf jumps to his feet and crowds into Kurt, licking all over his face. Kurt lets out a startled breath as the wolf nudges their noses together, but in truth he's just as happy to see the wolf as he apparently is to see Kurt. He wraps his arms around the wolf's neck and hugs him, finally calming down. He pushes his face into the wolf's soft fur, rubbing his cheek around as he gets his mouth near the wolf's ear, murmuring, "Your friends scared me."

The wolf whines in apology, but as he pushes further into the embrace he knocks Kurt off balance. Kurt sprawls on the ground and the wolf settles on top of him, still nuzzling at every inch of Kurt, tongue darting out to lick at the sparse areas of bared skin. Kurt really should be grossed out- more than that, he should be fearing for his life- but all he really wants is for the wolf to shift into his human form and continue the licking. Preferably with less clothes.

Kurt flushes and turns his head away, squeezing his eyes shut. What is wrong with him, that lately the urges he normally keeps repressed are flinging themselves through his mind with reckless abandon?

Then the wolf laps at his bared throat, his nose nudging under Kurt's jaw, and Kurt mewls. He bites his lip to stop any more embarrassing sounds from coming out, fingers scrabbling through the leaves under him as he tries to make sense of what he's feeling. He's at least glad he didn't tie a complicated cravat this morning. His soft cotton shirt has an open neckline, being from the small part of his wardrobe labelled "For Adventures and Daring Mischief!", which affords the wolf much more skin to ravish. Kurt realizes that he's rolling around in the leaves with a wolf on top of him and he doesn't even _care_; all he can think about is the man trapped inside that wolf and how he'd give anything to be rolling around under _him_ right now.

The wolf inches up and starts cleaning Kurt's cat ears. Kurt finds himself purring loudly, his lips parted and eyes half-lidded as his breaths become ragged. The wolf settles more firmly on top of him, laving his tongue through Kurt's hair and down to his human ears. He doesn't linger there long, just gives him a few wet licks that are way more arousing than Kurt would have expected. The wolf noses back up to the furred ears on top of Kurt's head, panting in them as he washes the fur.

"Well, this is certainly interesting."

Kurt's eyes fly open and he stops purring as the wolf growls menacingly, the vibrations traveling into Kurt where their chests are pressed together. "We're not judging, we just want to talk," the man says soothingly. He's smiling at them, standing relaxed next to another man. They're both shirtless, wearing loose pants and no shoes.

"I'm Wes, and this is David," the other man says. "I'm sorry we couldn't introduce ourselves properly before. While we can mostly understand human speech in our wolf forms, communicating in return is problematic."

Kurt looks at the two men and can immediately smell that they were the wolves who found him. David, with his dark brown skin and hair, must be the wolf with the chocolate fur, while Wes is the silver one. Aside from that Azimio character this morning, Kurt's hasn't seen an African since Will's old apprentice Matt inexplicably left, and it's rare to see anyone from the Asias- Tina will be so excited to hear about this.

Except, he can't tell her. Kurt clears his throat and tries to sit up, pushing at the wolf. He whines but relents, sitting back on his haunches and watching as Kurt stands. "I'm Kurt." He almost sticks out his hand to shake, but instead tangles his fingers in the thick fur on the wolf's neck.

"I'm sorry about your wrist," David says. He looks sincerely apologetic, so Kurt just shakes his head.

"It's fine."

"So, I take it you've met our friend here before?" Wes asks, gesturing at the wolf sitting protectively next to Kurt.

"Yeah, he-" Kurt cuts himself off when he realizes that they may not know the wolf killed a man for him. Will he be in trouble for doing that? Is there some sort of werewolf moral code? "He saved my life," Kurt settles on, hoping it conveys the severity of the situation without offering any details that might harm his wolf.

"Oh," David says, eyes widening in recognition. He looks to Wes, who's frowning pensively, and then back at Kurt. "You must be the boy from the alley. I'm sorry that happened to you."

"He told you about that?"

"Of course." Wes eyes the wolf seated at Kurt's side with a bit of suspicion. "We tell each other everything." The wolf leans his weight against Kurt's leg and lets out a sigh. David and Wes smile at him indulgently, then look back at Kurt. Feeling vaguely uncomfortable, Kurt twists his fingers more tightly into the wolf's fur and takes comfort in the fact that at least one member of this pack trusts him.

"Can't he change into his human form and talk to me?"

Wes shakes his head. "He goes into the city more than we do; he won't want you to recognize him."

"Oh." Kurt pulls his lower lip between his teeth and lets it slide back out. "What's his name, then?"

"We can't tell you, I'm sorry," David says. "We really must protect each other. Things are a little... strange right now."

"We only shifted because we need to talk to you about what you were doing earlier." Wes narrows his eyes at Kurt. "Was that the fuel additive?"

"Yes, but I don't know anything about it," Kurt rushes out. "We had a suspicion that it was made with magic, so we were dowsing to see if it led us to the source. It pulled me to you."

Wes rubs at his temple, looking weary. "It's complicated, Kurt. We're taking care of it. We can't give you any more details than that."

"Can I ask why you're so concerned with the formula of the additive?" David crosses his arms and manages to look severely intimidating for someone who's half naked. "Are you trying to create some competition?"

"No, no!" Kurt widens his eyes and shakes his head. "There have been trains pulled off the tracks, and no one knows why. I thought- well, now I know, it's because the residual magic in the additive is being attracted to its source. Which is you."

Kurt startles as the wolf next to him stands up quickly, fixing his gaze on Kurt's face. Kurt meets his eyes, feeling a strange connection settle into his bones. He mentally shakes himself and the feeling is gone just as quickly as it came. He rubs one of the wolf's ears and smiles a little sadly. "When you move around near the trains in a group, you're pulling the additive to you. Like a magnet picking up iron flecks."

"Well," Wes says after a moment. "We had no idea that was happening. We heard some commotions, but none of us thought we were causing it."

"Can you just- is it too much to ask for you to make a really wide berth around the tracks?" Kurt asks. "Though I don't know how to tell them the problem is fixed without also telling them the cause of it." Kurt rubs a hand over his face and sighs loudly.

"You're irritated," Wes says plainly, and the longer Kurt looks at him the more he feels patronized.

"Yes, god, of course I'm irritated!" Kurt looks back at the wolf standing next to him and growls, though he suspects the sound is laughable given his present company. "I would really love to protect you. You seem like decent werewolves and all, but a lot of people have died and they've completely stopped the westbound train service. I can't just pretend I don't know what's going on."

"We just need a little more time to plan our next move," David says. "The man responsible is making a lot of money, and it's all perfectly legal. We don't expect the people of this city to care that he murdered an entire family of werewolves to do so."

Kurt shakes his head and crosses his arms, tired of the holier-than-thou attitude. "If you hadn't started terrorizing the city, you might have found its people to be a bit more reasonable."

"That wasn't us," Wes says.

"Well, she's one of us _now_," David mutters under his breath.

"There was a rogue werewolf. She was angry and didn't know any better, but we've since accepted her into our little group and we try our best not to let anyone see us."

"That doesn't change anything." Kurt rubs at his temple, suddenly feeling exhausted. "You guys aren't very well understood, and I know people can make rash decisions when faced with the unknown. I'm not going to send hunters after you, but I am going to tell the rail yard the reason they need to stop using the additive. I hope it doesn't complicate your mysterious attempt at justice."

Wes laughs. "Don't worry, we'll be moving far from here. You won't be able to find us again."

"Okay, well, good luck with whatever." Kurt turns and starts walking, then stops when he realizes he has no idea which direction to go. "Um." He glances back at the Wes and David and smiles sweetly. "Do you mind pointing me in the direction of the tracks?"

The wolf pads over to Kurt and looks up at him with bright eyes, whining softly. David chuckles and shares a look with Wes. "He'll walk you back."

Kurt pets the top of the wolf's head and feels his heart melt a little. He normally hates dogs, but something about this werewolf makes Kurt want to curl up with him in front of a fireplace and groom each other. He follows the wolf all the way back to the tracks, but the point they reach is not where he agreed to meet Sam. It's definitely been longer than half an hour, anyway, so for all he knows Sam could be wandering the forest looking for him.

Sniffing the air proves futile, since Kurt's never been very good at scent-tracking. He sighs and rubs the wolf's ears. "Can you smell my boyfriend? He should be somewhere nearby." The wolf snarls at the word _boyfriend_, but he lowers his head and starts sniffing anyway. "Hey, don't be rude," Kurt admonishes. "I've been with him for a long time." The wolf huffs and raises his head to glower at Kurt, then lowers it and starts sniffing again, walking slowly down the tracks. Kurt trails along behind him, keeping his ears and eyes open for any sign of Sam.

He finally hears Sam yelling his name a few minutes later. "Over here!" Kurt calls back. He crouches down and kisses the top of the wolf's head, ruffling the fur on his neck with both hands. "Thank you, again. You shouldn't let Sam see you, he might think you're trying to eat me and shoot you." The werewolf gives him a look that clearly says he thinks he could take a human in a fight, but Kurt just laughs and nuzzles their noses together. "He has good aim, it's a serious threat."

The wolf huffs and licks over Kurt's mouth, the same way he had the first night they met. Kurt turns his face away and wipes his mouth on his sleeve, then pushes the wolf toward the woods without a word.

The wolf has just disappeared from sight when Sam catches up to him, grabbing Kurt's hips and spinning him around to face him. "There you are," he breathes, clearly relieved. He looks Kurt up and down like he's assessing him for damage, and frowns when he sees that he's unharmed. "Where were you? I was worried."

"I"m sorry, I went farther than I meant to and got lost on the way back."

Sam shakes his head, still frowning. "I thought the wolves had gotten you. Come on." He heads back in the direction of the city and Kurt follows, falling into step with Sam.

"So you heard them? Did you figure it out?"

"No, I got kind of spooked and headed back early." Sam shakes his head and sighs. "Anyway, my dowsing chain kept changing direction. I should have known better than to put any trust in magic."

"It did work, though. It was attracted to the werewolves." Kurt looks at his feet as they pass over the wooden ties, more so he doesn't have to look Sam than to actually avoid anything on the tracks. Madame Beiste keeps all aspects of the railway well maintained. "I think the alchemist Ryerson must be using werewolf blood in his new batch of potions," he adds after a minute.

"Shit, really? I guess that makes sense."

Kurt nods and stuffs his hands in his pockets. "I'll talk to Madame Beiste and get the trains running again. I just... don't want to make a big deal about this? I'm worried that if people hear werewolf blood is so powerful in potions, they might start hunting them."

Sam scoffs. "It would serve them right if they did."

Kurt hunches his shoulders forward, his expression darkening. "They're just people, Sam. When was the last time one did something to hurt anyone?"

"Uh, just a few weeks ago? That farmer was attacked."

"Dad said all he had were a few scratches. I bet he got them from running away and tripping at the first sight of a regular old wolf, anyway."

"Even if that's true, Mr. Tanaka was killed pretty brutally, and everyone says it was a werewolf. His neighbor even saw it."

Kurt has a suspicion of which wolf was responsible for that, and he really wishes he could actually talk to his wolf. Kurt wants to give the werewolves the benefit of the doubt, but as it's hard to reconcile the unabashed fear most people have of them with the cultured men he spoke to in the woods, he really wishes he could get some more information out of them.

"Okay," Kurt says, resigned. "That was a few months ago, at least. Maybe these are different werewolves."

Sam's quiet for a while, and when Kurt glances at him he sees Sam staring at him with a weird look on his face.

"What?"

"Why are you defending them? They're werewolves, Kurt. They're like the embodiment of evil magic."

"I don't think that's true. I think they're misunderstood. How do you even become a werewolf, anyway? It's not like they chose it."

"Some of them did. I hear it's like a cult. There's big groups of them that live together in the forest and practice all sorts of creepy illegal magic."

Kurt rolls his eyes. "That sounds ridiculous."

"Maybe, but so do lots of things that turn out to be true. You should be careful, Kurt. If you come near a werewolf and it bites you? You're officially out of steam. You'll turn into a werewolf too." Sam pauses and squints his eyes, clearly thinking hard. "Actually, I'm not sure what would happen to you. Maybe you'd turn into a lion at the full moon."

"You caught me, Sam. I am already a full-fledged werelion. Rawr." Kurt makes his hand into a claw shape and slowly scratches at the air, lazily baring his teeth at Sam with just the smallest curl of his lip. "Hiss," Kurt says flatly.

Sam rolls his eyes and grins, reaching out to ruffle Kurt's ears and pull him closer. He plants a kiss on Kurt's temple and leaves his arm slung over Kurt's shoulder for the rest of their long walk home.


	5. Chapter 5

Hello loveys! I'm so sorry for the long wait- I just haven't had much time to write, and my beta needs a decent turnaround time since she is a very busy lady. I am aiming now for weekly updates, probably Wednesdays, but please be understanding if it takes longer. I really appreciate all of the wonderful feedback I've gotten so far, and I only hope you all will continue to enjoy the story, as it will be a long one! Quick note that I do not have a tumblr but I do have a livejournal, and my username there is animal-sweaters. I have a couple of one-shots posted there that have nothing to do with this universe, but feel free to check those out too.

Also, I was incredibly happy to receive my first fanart for this story! The lovely Rachel (kokamo on LJ) drew Kurt cuddling with wolfy Blaine from the last chapter. You can see it here, forgive the mangled link, I don't know how to get around that... img(dot)photobucket(dot)com(slash)albums(slash)v173(slash)kokamo(slash)Scribbles(slash)092711_1100(dot)jpg Don't they so smitten with each other? :D You can leave her compliments with your reviews here if you'd like!

And now! New chapter! This should explain a few things you've all been wondering about, but will also bring up new questions. I promise they will all be answered over the course of the story.

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"Seriously, I think it's time you called me Blaine," Mr. Anderson says when he comes in to approve some fabric a few days later. "May I call you Kurt?" He gives Kurt this ridiculous sad face when he says it, like he expects Kurt to say no and needs to pre-emptively guilt him into saying yes instead.

"Of course," is what Kurt actually says, feeling for too pleased for such a simple interaction. "You do know you don't have to come into the shop for your subsequent fittings, don't you? I'm more than happy to visit your home." It's customary for a tailor to visit their clients in their own homes after an initial visit, and Kurt is a little flustered by Blaine's presence in his workspace.

He looks up from the bolts spread out on the cutting table and catches Tina's eye. She's smirking at him from across the shop, and when she sees him looking she makes a kissy face and pretends to swoon. Blaine turns to see what has Kurt's attention, but when his eyes land on her, Tina somehow manages to look completely absorbed in the buttonholes she's stitching.

Blaine shakes his head and turns back to Kurt. "It's more than fine, Kurt. My manor is rather far out from the city center, I wouldn't want to burden you." He smiles, radiating charm, and leans casually against the cutting table. "Show me again the sketch for the coat? You were right, I love this color." Kurt had ordered a heavyweight wool in emerald green for the winter coat, replete with rather ostentatious trimmings of gold braid and buttons.

"I can do you one better-I have a mock-up done." Kurt pulls out a pile of muslin and snags a bare mannequin. It's only the right half of the coat, so Kurt has to wrestle it into position and pin it before Blaine can get an idea of it. "Do you think the collar's too big?" Kurt fiddles with it self-consciously. "I love it, but I realize it's not quite the current fashion."

"I think _you_ are the current fashion, Kurt. I told you to dress me however you wish."

Kurt opens his mouth but doesn't quite know how to respond. He slowly brings his eyes from the coat to Blaine's face, surprised to note the way Blaine's eyes soften and his lips part ever so slightly when Kurt looks at him. "You flatter me too much," Kurt eventually says, dropping his eyes to the floor. Blaine steps closer and rests a tentative hand on Kurt's elbow.

"On the contrary, I don't think you give yourself enough credit."

Kurt gives him a tired smile and shakes his head in disbelief, realizing that Blaine doesn't know what other people think of him. He thinks Kurt's had an entire normal life in this city, and he certainly doesn't know that some men go so far as to talk to Miss Pillsbury about their orders and pretend that cat-eared Kurt isn't the one designing and sewing them.

"You... really don't talk to anyone else, do you?"

"Of course I do, silly. I just prefer talking to you."

"Right." Kurt rolls his bottom lip between his teeth, looking around for a good distraction so he doesn't have to explain. There isn't one, since Tina's now working literally inside of a ruched taffeta skirt, her stocking-clad calves and button boots the only part of her still visible. Kurt sighs and launches into it, not used to telling the story since everyone else likes to tell it for him. "I'm not sure if you realize I was actually born a cat."

Blaine cocks his head, eyebrows drawing together in confusion as he regards Kurt. "You mean... you used to be a regular house cat?"

"Yep." Kurt studies his nails. His cuticles are looking a little ragged; he's been slacking on his beauty regime in favor of spending long hours at the shop working on Blaine's order. "My litter was picked up by William Schuester, Master of the Chemical Arts, for the purposes of experimentation. Surprise." Kurt wiggles his fingers at Blaine. "He was actually just trying to trip something in our brains to make us into feline lab assistants, but we got sick fairly quickly and he tried everything to make us better. Two of them died, but my sister Brittany and I ended up transforming most of the way into humans. He's still not sure what combinations of elixirs ended up resulting in this-" Kurt sweeps a hand down his body- "but ta da! Here I am."

"How long has it been?" Blaine asks quietly. He looks almost sad, instead of ravenously curious like most people are when they find out what he is.

"As a kitten, I was a little less than a year old when it happened, so I became a mostly human boy of around 12, and that was... just over five years ago."

"Wow." Blaine doesn't say anything else, just keeps studying him. Kurt debates expanding on the story and explaining to Blaine how his prostitute of a sister unwittingly ruined his own reputation, but decides to save it for another day. There's no reason to change the way Blaine thinks of him just yet.

"Anyway, the dove gray wool suit-"

"Can I touch them?" Blaine blurts out. Kurt's mouth remains open for a moment before he slowly closes it. He's sure his face looks bewildered.

"I'm sorry?"

"Your ears. No, _I'm_ sorry, that was very rude of me. I was only curious, but-"

"Okay." Kurt tilts his head down, both to oblige Blaine's request and to hide his blush. No one ever asks to touch his ears. His family and close friends are the only ones who ever occasionally give them a pat or quick scratch, though his more easily accessible tail gets grabbed by strange children and groped by lewd men enough that Kurt's considered cutting it off.

Blaine hesitates, pressing closer to Kurt and steadying himself with the hand that's still on his arm. He brings the other up to lightly trace a fingertip over the edge of one ear. It twitches a little, involuntarily, at the faint touch. Blaine lets out a breath and pets the ear a little more firmly, letting his thumb graze over the soft inside as he rubs his fingers over the furred back of it. He runs his fingers though Kurt's hair around the base of the ears, then brings his other hand up to give attention to both ears at once. He pets them for a while, Kurt's eyes falling shut as he relaxes into the calming feeling.

"You're purring," Blaine whispers, sounding surprised and delighted. Blinking rapidly, Kurt steps out of Blaine's reach, his purrs tapering off into slightly labored breaths.

"I need to get back to work," Kurt says lamely. Blaine crosses his arms over his chest and nods, looking strangely unsure of himself.

"Of course. I-" Blaine swallows and begins again with deliberate sincerity. "I'm sorry if I overstepped. I'm curious about you, Kurt, but I'd never want to make you uncomfortable."

"It's alright," Kurt says quickly. He offers Blaine a small smile and an olive branch. "You can come back and check on my progress with your clothes any time, Blaine."

"Thank you." Blaine fetches his hat from the coat rack by the door and hurries out the door.

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"Okay, okay, so get this." Tina wobbles a little on her stool as she resettles herself, leaning her elbows on the table and looking around conspiratorially. It's fairly early in the evening so the bar isn't too loud, but Kurt leans in anyway, drawn to the promise of gossip, Sam and Finn mimicking him until the four of them are huddled together over the center of their table. They've just started talking about Mr. Anderson- Blaine, as he's now known to Kurt- and the rumors that followed him into the city.

As Tina waits for the anticipation to build, she flicks her eyes to Kurt and grins, and Kurt suddenly feels a hollow sense of dread. She couldn't be-

"Kurt let him _pet his ears_," Tina whisper-yells, failing to find the appropriate volume for telling secrets in her drunken state. "It was like he was in a trance, and he was purring, and it was _so cute_."

Kurt tenses up, gripping his mug of cider tightly. He'd thought Tina was sufficiently distracted by her sewing that afternoon and hadn't noticed his slightly inappropriate actions.

"Wait, what? You let him pet you?" Sam looks at Kurt like he's never seen him before.

"Are we still talking about that Anderson guy?" Finn settles back in his seat and sips his beer. "Why does he keep visiting you? Doesn't he have anything better to do?"

"I was showing him the muslin for a coat he ordered. He's interested in the tailoring process, that's all."

"That's not all he's interested in!" Tina cackles and nearly falls off her stool again. Finn and Sam both jump up to steady her, though Kurt just glares across the table.

Sam doesn't take his seat right away, instead standing next to Kurt and looking at him with a mixture of hurt and confusion. "You didn't tell me he had any ill intentions toward you."

"He doesn't. He's just being friendly." Kurt's ears tilt out and downward, a clear sign of him being annoyed. "I'm not allowed to make new friends?"

"Kurt. Kurrrrt." Tina smacks a hand on the table and everyone grabs their drinks as it teeters on one too-short leg. "He doesn't want to be your friend! He wants to take you away to his manor and shower you with his fortune of unknown origins."

"Dude, I heard he's an airship pirate," Finn says. "You better be careful, he could probably get into your pants without you even knowing it."

"I can't decide which part of that is more ridiculous." Kurt pats Sam's hip, giving him a little push back to his stool. "Sit down, you're being crazy. You're all being crazy." Sam sits, but he pouts and hunches over his beer as he sips it, looking completely morose. A very small part of Kurt feels guilty, but that part is easy to ignore.

"Tina!" Kurt says in a bright and slightly strangled-sounding voice, trying to change both the subject and the mood. "How are you so drunk right now?"

"Puck gave me something purple and glowy before you got here." She leans down and sips from her beer without raising the glass, slurping obnoxiously, her eyes wide. If Kurt didn't love her so much he'd be appalled.

"That's right I did," Puck says smugly, throwing an arm around Tina's shoulders, startling Kurt.. "How are you feeling, my exotic Asian flower?"

"Tingly." Tina starts giggling, barely able to form words. "My body." She takes a deep breath. "It's like, proof. That clouds are real." She does fall over then, laughing too hard to keep any sort of balance. Puck mostly catches her with an arm around her waist, but she stays folded in half with her face nearly in Sam's lap, shoulders shaking.

Kurt sighs and drains the last of his cider before going over to Tina and taking her from Puck. She trips a little on her long lace skirts as she leans against Kurt, giggling into his shoulder.

"What did you give her, Puckerman?" Kurt asks.

"Chill out, Kitten." Puck shrugs. "It's from a new supplier. She dropped off a sample batch. Obviously I'll be ordering some." Puck grins and adds, "She was smoking hot, too. A little short, but I'll forgive a blonde almost anything. I'm thinking she'll give me a discount if I take her for a ride on the Puckerman Express." Puck purses his lips into what is probably supposed to be a sexy face and thrusts his hips at Kurt.

"I think you're needed behind the bar," Sam says flatly.

Puck punches him good-naturedly in the shoulder and struts back to his post. Kurt watches him go with a small frown. Puck's an alright guy- a little reckless, and a little too interested in bedding every woman between the ages of puberty and menopause- but he's been Finn's best friend since they were kids, so that has to count for something. At least, Kurt tells himself it does. He still has a hard time getting over the awful haircut Puck sports as a result of some unfortunate steam burns and the resulting bald patches.

"Hey, Kurt, isn't that Miss Pillsbury?" Finn pipes up. Kurt turns toward the doorway, Tina shuffling along with him to stay propped against his chest. It is, in fact, his and TIna's employer, entering possibly the one place Kurt never expected to run into her. She's extremely prim and proper, clutching desperately to the manners befitting a lady that most in her class have abandoned in the past generation. Kurt appreciates that about her, though sometimes he worries she adheres to so much etiquette more as an emotional crutch than out of any moral compulsion or the longing for tradition. Right now she looks wildly uncomfortable, wide eyes darting around the interior of the bar with obvious distaste.

"Who's she with?" Kurt wonders out loud. There's a handsome man escorting her, pulling out a chair for her at the table near the window. It's a strange sight in the casual atmosphere of McKinley's.

"I don't know, but Will's not going to be happy to hear about this," Sam says. "The way he talks about her, you'd think she'd invented the dirigible." Kurt makes a sound of acknowledgement and looks down at Tina. With the way she's listing against him, he can't tell if she's about to be sick or fall asleep.

Finn stands and shuffles around the table to stand next to Kurt. "You want another one?" He holds up his empty glass.

"No, I'm going to get Tina home. Feel free to stay." Kurt inclines his head to Sam and smiles uncertainly, hoping that he will choose to walk with them but not wanting to keep him from hanging out with the guys.

After knowing each other for so long, Sam can read him easily. He stands up and curls his arm around Kurt's waist. "I'll go with you; you'll probably need help carrying this little lush."

They have to pass Miss Pillsbury to leave, and Kurt braces himself for some sort of awkward interaction when she sees Tina's condition, but they end up walking past her and out the door without her noticing. She's too busy staring at the man seated across from her, engrossed in whatever story he's regaling her with.

"Ow, ow, _Tina!_" Kurt stops barely a block from the bar and grimaces. Tina's hanging off him, arms around his neck and legs not even trying to support her own weight.

"Sorry," she mumbles into his shoulder. She rubs her nose against his jacket and then bites, gnawing at the fabric and giggling. She's lucky tonight's jacket is not easily damaged (military-inspired and made of heavy cotton, a Kurt Hummel Original from last year), or Kurt would be leaving her in the gutter.

"Careful, Sam, it would seem Tina's taking after the werewolves," Kurt says. "Run, save yourself!"

Sam rolls his eyes. "Want me to carry her?"

"_Please_."

Sam bends down and Kurt manages to get Tina hoisted onto his back, her arms now wound around his neck. "Don't choke him!" Kurt admonishes, trying to get her to lean in a way that doesn't cut off Sam's breathing. Tina finally slumps her weight forward and they set off again, Sam hitching her up every once in a while as she starts to slide.

"She's going to be fun at work tomorrow," Kurt comments when the silence starts to get a little strained.

"Yeah."

Kurt chews on his lip and folds his arms over his chest, glancing around as they walk toward the row-house Tina shares with her family. "I don't understand why you're upset with me."

"I'm not upset with you."

"Well, whatever you're doing right now, I don't get it."

Sam's quiet for a moment, and they both startle as a loud snore comes from Tina. Kurt veers his steps closer to Sam, letting their arms brush as they walk.

"You hate it when men flirt with you," Sam eventually says. "You've always told me I'm the only 'potential suitor' who doesn't creep you out. You barely know this guy, and it sounds like you're letting your guard down around him. How am I supposed to feel about that?"

"It's different," Kurt says quickly, a little too defensive. "He doesn't know about Brittany, or how I go into heat, or any of it. He just likes me, for me, and maybe he flirts a little too much, but he knows I have a boyfriend and he's just being _nice_, Sam. It's refreshing, I guess, to have some attention from a new person who wants me to get to know me without expecting anything."

"Maybe he's just good at hiding his creepiness, did you think about that?"

"Maybe he isn't inherently creepy! You've never even met him."

"I did, though. Last week he came into the shop. I didn't realize it had anything to do with you until tonight. You haven't mentioned him to me at all, though you've clearly talked about him with everyone else."

"It never came up with you!" Kurt makes a frustrated sound in his throat and turns a sharp right, realizing they'd almost passed Tina's street. "He went to Burt's for some maintenance on this contraption he has that was damaged during his move, it makes a drink called expressa or something, it's very modern. Burt had heard of it but never seen one, so of course he and Finn were talking about it at dinner, and he'd mentioned the tailoring he was having done and Burt figured he was talking about me-"

"It sounds like he's stalking you," Sam scoffs, interrupting Kurt's rambling as they stop in front of Tina's house. "He was asking Schue all these weird questions about his werewolf repellent and known alchemists in the city."

"Which clearly has so much to do with me." Kurt huffs and recrosses his arms. "Get her inside so we can go."

"I'm not waking up her parents! You get her inside."

"You are not a man, Sam Evans."

Kurt stomps up the steps and tries the handle, relieved to find the door unlocked. He eases it open and beckons for Sam to follow him, picking their way through the nearly black corridor toward Tina's room. Once she's deposited on the bed, her drunken snores get even louder as she snuggles into her pillows. Kurt starts unbuttoning her dainty boots and Sam shifts awkwardly in the doorway.

"Are you seriously going to undress her?" he whispers.

"Yes," Kurt whispers back, pulling the other boot off and setting them neatly at the end of the bed. "I am an excellent friend."

"We look like perverts, Kurt, come on!"

Kurt sighs and looks at Tina's skirts all puffed out around her. It will be a lot of work to roll her around and get the garments off by himself.

"Okay, okay." Kurt leaves with a kiss to Tina's forehead, not speaking again until they're back on the street. The moon is just a tiny sliver in the sky, their path lit only by the flickering gas lamps that line the cobblestone streets.

"Goodnight, Sam," Kurt says tersely, setting off toward his apartment. There's a shortcut to Sam's street through an alley in the opposite direction, though Kurt knows Sam wants to walk him home anyway.

"Kurt." He stops walking but doesn't turn around, letting Sam catch up with him. Sam wraps his hand around Kurt's tail and holds it firmly, and Kurt snarls at him.

"Don't fucking do that." Kurt jerks away but Sam doesn't let go, and he whimpers at the twinge of pain in his tail.

"Stop walking away from me when you're upset," Sam replies calmly. "Promise me you'll talk to me, and I'll let go."

Kurt fumes silently, meeting Sam's gaze and refusing to give in. If Kurt wants to storm out, then he will storm the fuck out. He starts walking again and Sam has no choice but to follow, Kurt's tail effectively becoming a leash.

"Hey, listen." Sam lessens his grip on Kurt's tail but keeps it held in a loose fist, running his thumb over the soft fur in apology. "You just get so defensive sometimes. I want to talk about things, and you get angry and walk away without resolving it."

"I'm hearing a lot of accusation. You're the one who brings up things that upset me."

"They don't have to be upsetting, Kurt, if you'd let us talk through them."

"You wouldn't understand." And he really wouldn't, is the thing. Kurt can't put into words how he feels sometimes- too much of his cat instinct bleeds through into how he's supposed to act and feel as a human, and his isolated experience with the world colors everything he feels. Kurt's felt alone since the moment he understood what had happened to him, and he can't imagine that ever changing.

"You could try explaining it to me, instead of just assuming I won't understand." Sam groans in frustration and Kurt echoes him with a growl rumbling low in his throat. Sam tugs on his tail sharply. "Did you just growl at me?"

Kurt just growls harder in response and flashes his teeth at Sam, who frowns but doesn't seem to know what to do otherwise, since Kurt never acts like this around him. Kurt feels validated and let down at the same time. It's more proof that Sam will never really get him.

"Kurt? Are you all right?" a voice calls suddenly.

Kurt stops growling and sniffs the air, turning to his left to see Blaine standing across the street, looking at him in concern. When Kurt doesn't respond right away, Blaine jogs across the street and cups his hand around Kurt's elbow, frowning at the possessive way Sam is gripping his tail.

"Blaine," Kurt says, and there's no taking back the way his voice goes soft and breathy around the man's name. Kurt is sure the instantaneous changes that happen in him at the sight of Blaine are measurable: his posture relaxes, his ears tip forward, his mouth parts slightly, and his tail twitches in Sam's palm. Sam lets go of his tail, moving his hand to the small of his back and pressing Kurt further into his side. Blaine lets his hand fall from Kurt's arm, smiling at them both.

"Sorry to intrude; I heard you growling and thought you might be in trouble."

"No trouble, we were just talking," Kurt says, returning the smile warmly. "Thank you for rushing to my rescue, however unnecessary it may have been."

"Hi," Sam says abruptly. "I don't believe we've formally met. I'm Sam Evans. Kurt's boyfriend." Kurt sends Sam a pointed look at how hard and unfriendly his voice sounds, but Blaine either doesn't notice or chooses not to acknowledge it. Kurt's guessing it's the latter, based on how thick Blaine starts to lay on the charm.

"Sam Evans, of course," Blaine says smoothly. "I remember you from the chemist's shop, and Kurt has told me so much about you." Kurt hasn't, but he appreciates the lie.

Something catches his eye, and he looks back across the street to see a vaguely familiar person disappearing into the alley near where Blaine had been. Kurt would recognize that cheap and tacky suit anywhere.

"Were you chatting with _Sue Sylvester_?" Kurt asks, turning back to Blaine and raising an eyebrow.

Blaine cocks his head to the side and looks at Kurt in confusion. "Yes? Why?"

"In an alley," Sam points out.

"It's the outlet from the back entrance to her, ah, establishment." Blaine looks vaguely uncomfortable and rushes to reassure them, "I'm not a client of hers-I don't condone such things. She and I were just catching up."

"A likely story," Sam says darkly.

"What do you mean, catching up?" Kurt shifts and elbows Sam without taking his eyes off of Blaine's face, noting the guarded expression that has fallen over his face.

"She's an old family acquaintance," Blaine says vaguely. "She'd heard I was taking over my Great Uncle's estate and sent word that I should pay her a visit."

"In an alley," Sam says again. "At night. That's not suspicious."

"I beg your pardon, but what exactly are you accusing me of?" Blaine asks lightly. "Her business hours and location dictated the nature of our meeting. I know her reputation; I'm not about to gallivant around town with the woman. I was simply being polite."

"Let it go, Sam," Kurt says quietly. "It's nice to hear your family has ties to the city, Blaine. I'd begun to worry you had nothing to tether you here, and that you might run off again as soon as your wardrobe was replenished."

"Oh, I'm here to stay," Blaine says sincerely. "I have great plans for Dalton manor. One day I'll have to have you over for dinner. Both of you, I mean," he adds after a slight pause.

"That would be lovely," Kurt says. He elbows Sam again when he doesn't respond.

"Yes. Lovely."

"Well," Blaine says, taking a step backward. "I'll let you two be. I'll stop by next week to see what else you have for me, Kurt."

"I'll make sure to have something impressive. Good night, Blaine."

Blaine grins hugely at him as he continues his backward stroll. "Good night, my favorite tailor." Blaine nods at Sam. "Good night, favorite tailor's boyfriend." Blaine walks a few more paces before whirling about and disappearing onto a side street.

"What a creep," Sam says as soon as Blaine is out of sight. "I bet he wants to have us over for dinner, literally. Like he's going to eat us."

"Sam!" Kurt hisses. "He's perfectly nice, what is wrong with you? He's going to think you're _abusive_ if he sees you act like that around me again." Kurt huffs and narrows his eyes. "I am walking home. On my own. Good night."

"Here you go, walking away from me again. That's real mature, Kurt. You're being so mature about this."

"I'm seventeen! I'm allowed to be immature! I'm pretty sure it's actually encouraged at this age!" Kurt clenches his hands into fists and stomps down the narrow sidewalk, nearly running into the first iron gas lamp he passes. Kurt straightens his strides and speedwalks the short distance back to his apartment, mentally fuming with every angry step. _Blaine_ would surely never accuse him of being immature. Kurt's beginning to feel like Sam actually brings out the childish impulses in him, while being around someone like Blaine makes Kurt want to be more refined. He's not sure what to make of that revelation, only that it feels significant.


	6. Chapter 6

Sorry for the short update- this part was supposed to go with the next part, but since I haven't updated in forever I thought it best to publish something. A couple people messaged me asking if I'd abandoned the story, etc, but I don't check this site unless I'm updating so I'm very sorry for not replying! I had an exchange fic I was working on, and I just don't have much time to write, but I am sorry for leaving you guys hanging. Thanks for keeping this story in mind and for all the wonderful feedback you've left.

I just signed up for tumblr, since so much of the Glee fan stuff happens there, so you can follow me there if you wish. My username is animal-sweaters . tumblr . com :) I've allowed anonymous asks, so if you don't have an account you can still ask me a question about the story. I expect I'll be better about replying over there than on this site, and that way everyone can see the answer.

Now on with the story! I hope you're still interested!

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The weather on Kurt's day off is distinctly perfect, sunny and mostly warm with a crisp breeze hinting at autumn. The air will start to turn sharp and bitterly cold soon, so Kurt optimizes his time with his favorite sort of weather by sprawling out in the grass, basking in the sun and purring. He reads for a while, but he's sketching by the time Blaine finds him in the early afternoon.

"There you are." Blaine comes to a stop next to him and looks at the giant willow tree Kurt is now leaning against. "Finn told me I might find you out here. Is this your secret hiding place?" Blaine rests his palm on the bark and smiles to himself, a secretive little smirk, and Kurt wonders fleetingly if Blaine can tell he's scent-marked the tree all over. He really does like the spot, and after years of marking it as his, no other animal comes near it.

He's being silly, he knows-as a human, Blaine would never be able to pick up on that.

Kurt leans his head back against the trunk of the tree to look up at Blaine. Today, more than most days, he feels utterly _happy_ with his life, and there Blaine is, unbearably handsome and clearly infatuated with him, so why is Kurt depriving himself?

_Sam makes me feel safe_, Kurt tells himself, just as he tells himself every time he questions his relationship. Blaine is confusing and mysterious and never reveals very much about his life. For all Kurt knows, he could be involved in illegal (or at least immoral) dealings, and who knows if he would tell Kurt the truth about himself if they were to become involved. Kurt may discover he doesn't _want_ to know more about Blaine, but by then it would be too late, and he would be trapped with some smarmy vagabond instead of his nice honest (slightly dull) boyfriend.

Blaine sits down next to him, leaning back against the tree but keeping his head turned toward Kurt. Kurt blushes and looks down at his lap, fiddling with his pile of drawings. Despite how little he really knows of Blaine, he can't deny that he craves his company. He has the feeling that Blaine would protect him from anything, but it's different from the comfortable security he feels with Sam.

"Why did you want to find me?" Kurt asks after a moment.

Blaine settles a closer to him, until their sides are pressed warm together. "I wanted to invite you somewhere tomorrow evening. I also wanted the chance to observe you in your natural setting."

"That's not creepy at all," Kurt says lightly. Blaine grins at him and bumps their shoulders together, clearly not offended.

"I just want to be friends, Kurt. Friends see each other outside of the tailor shop." Blaine nods down at the pile of papers in Kurt lap. "May I see them?"

"Sure." Kurt hands them to Blaine and then suddenly feels unsure of himself, wondering why his first instinct is to trust Blaine with everything he has "They're just- I was just sketching. I can do much better when I take the time." It's mostly rough sketches of trees and leaves, with a few disjointed ideas for clothing thrown in. Kurt's on a kick of drawing clothes on figures that are half human, half tree.

Blaine flips through them slowly, thumb brushing the rough edges of the handmade paper as he studies each drawing. He stops on a page Kurt's not too happy with, just a jumble of floral sketches, but Blaine studies it intently, trailing the pads of his fingers over the bottom. Kurt feels oddly self-concious when he realizes that what has Blaine's attention is not the smudges of charcoal, but the raised and crumpled edges of the paper.

"What's this?" Blaine murmurs. "I noticed it on a few of the others, but it's the worst here. Do you need a better paper supplier?"

"No." Kurt plucks a blade of grass and twists it between his fingers, not meeting Blaine's questioning eyes. "It's just a habit. I chew on my paper when I'm thinking."

"Oh," Blaine says, a surprised little breath of air. He ducks his head to meet Kurt's eyes, smiling, and Kurt stops fidgeting. "That's strangely cute."

"It's not." Kurt pouts, but Blaine just taps his scrunched-up nose and continues smiling, so Kurt relents. "If I get too lost in thought I end up eating it," he admits, low and secretive. Blaine laughs a little, then, but it's not mean spirited, and Kurt smiles down at his lap. "Just another benefit of being born a cat. Though it could be much worse, really. My sister eats wool and even charcoal if you let her."

Blaine's quiet for a moment, then he lays a hand on Kurt's knee and gives it a gentle squeeze. "That's the second time you've mentioned your sister. Tell me about her?"

Kurt lets out a long sigh and thunks his head back against the tree trunk. No one ever asks about Brittany; they think they already know all there is to know about her. "She works for Madame Sylvester," Kurt says simply.

"I know that. I've heard men talk, Kurt, but there must be more to it than that."

Kurt sucks in a harsh breath and closes his eyes. He'd been operating under the assumption that Blaine didn't know about Brittany, but if he does- if he knows how she acts and still doesn't expect the same from Kurt- then Blaine is an even better person than he'd imagined. Kurt exhales and opens his eyes, staring at Blaine, who looks the perfect mix of interested and concerned.

"When we were created, Mr. Schuester didn't know what to do with us. He had a weird comraderie with Madame Sylvester back then, and she offered to give us work in her brothel. He thought we were too stupid to help him in the lab. Not- not work like that," Kurt adds hastily, when he sees how upset Blaine is beginning to look. "We were only 11 or 12 when we became human, and we _were_ kind of stupid, but only because we were still trying to understand the world. We moved into the brothel and helped with random duties for a while, but Brittany..." Kurt swallows and turns away from Blaine, staring at the soft green grass under his hand.

"She had her first heat," he admits, quietly. "She has a lot more feline instincts than I do, so I don't really understand what it's like for her. But she presented herself to some client, and of course he had his way with her, and she apparently was fine with it. Sue didn't even know it happened until the next day, and of course she was livid that the guy took advantage, but Brittany couldn't understand why any of us were upset. She started presenting to anyone she saw as a viable mating option, including the girls in the brothel, and I knew I had to get her out of there. I took her back to Mr. Schuester, and you know my adopted parents- they were old friends of his-they offered to adopt us, but Brittany just couldn't fit in there. She presented herself to Finn the moment we got in the door, and I just couldn't stand to be in the same room as her. I don't... I just can't understand the way she thinks about sex. She doesn't care who it happens with or the circumstances or anything. So she ended up going back to Sue, and I haven't talked to her since."

Blaine's quiet for a while, stroking his thumb over Kurt's knee reassuringly as Kurt reigns his emotions back in. "It bothers you, the way the clients treat her," Blaine finally says.

"Of course it does. They don't understand how innocent she is, that sex is this instinctual mating thing for her. She doesn't get how those men think of her, or how dirty the whole thing is. She just likes sex and thinks she has the best job in the world. It's _awful_."

"Would you want her to wake up tomorrow and realize how confusing and complicated her life is? Do you want her to understand that judgement?"

"No," Kurt says quickly. "As much as I wish she could see things from my perspective, I would never want her to think of herself the way I do."

"Oh. Ouch."

"Blaine, I'm aware of how harsh I am about this subject and I don't want to get into some ethical thing here. I just want her to have the option of falling in love and having sex that means something, because I don't think she'll ever understand that it _can_ mean something, and that just makes me really, really sad. She's beautiful and creative and she could do so many things, so why does she have to do that?"

"For now, it makes her happy, doesn't it?"

Kurt sighs heavily. "I guess it does. I wish it didn't."

"It might not always," Blaine offers, patting Kurt's knee. "She might just be waiting to meet the right person. And perhaps that other person will love sex just as much as she does, and be willing to have it in all sorts of morally unsound positions."

"Oh god," Kurt chokes out, stifling a laugh. "One can only hope." He's grinning, though, mood effectively lightened, and Kurt marvels at how even the most serious conversations feel weightless when he's having them with Blaine.

Blaine looks fondly at him for a long moment before reverting his attention to the papers in his lap. He flips past the flower sketches, lingering for a moment on each page, until he comes to a view of the city. "Oh, I love this one." Blaine glances from the drawing up to Kurt's face, smiling warmly. "Is that the view from up here? I didn't really look behind me as I was walking."

"Yes. I'll show you." Kurt rolls to his feet gracefully, though he winces a little as his knees straighten out. He'd been sitting down for too long. Blaine stands up and follows him out from under the canopy of the willow and around a few more trees until they reach the patch of grass Kurt had rolled around in earlier.

They're about a mile from Kurt's apartment and Burt's shop, where a few rolling hills mark the south west edge of the city. To the east is the sea, and Blaine whistles as he looks at the buildings sprawled out below them. Kurt has drawn this view many times, during different seasons, but with the trees all red and gold around them and Blaine standing next to him, it's the most beautiful he's ever seen his city look.

"I want to take you over there tomorrow-" Blaine points south of them, to the end of the coast where most of the dirigibles are anchored "-if you'll come with me. Some friends of mine have started meeting, sort of an airship salon. I think you'd like them."

Kurt hasn't had much occasion to visit that area. Airship flights are expensive, and he has nowhere to go on one anyway. He squints at the ships hovering above the city. A lot of the more affluent people live in that area, so Kurt's not surprised that Blaine knows them.

"Where does the ship travel?"

"It's stationary. The propellers are broken and it's an older model, so it would cost more to fix than it's worth. Arthur, the owner, decided to turn it into an entertaining space. It's really quite something. Will you come with me?"

Kurt rocks up onto the balls of his feet and studies the horizon, wondering how it would feel to look down upon it. "I suppose," he drawls out slowly, not wanting to give in too easily.

Blaine grins and scratches behind Kurt's ears, but the touch is gone before Kurt can enjoy it too much. He shakes his head, twitches his ears, and tilts his head at Blaine. "What should I wear?"

"Whatever you like. You always look impeccable."

Kurt sighs in exasperation; he should have expected that sort of answer. He notices that Blaine is still holding his drawing and looking at it, comparing it to the actual view. "You can have that, if you want it." It's one he spent a little more time on, and it's not marred by a single bite mark, so Kurt's not too embarrassed for him to have it.

"Really?" Kurt nods. Blaine rolls the paper up and holds it securely in one hand, bringing the other up to draw Kurt into a half-hug. "Thank you."

Blaine kisses his cheek and lingers there, just breathing for a moment and stroking his shoulder. Kurt leans into the touch, feeling warm all over. Blaine steps back after a chaste kiss to his temple and Kurt swallows audibly, letting out a little sigh as Blaine waves and heads back down the hill.


End file.
